In My Place
by LauGS
Summary: Blaine has always been shy and introverted, so after his father dies, he looks for comfort in his childhood dream - owning a book store. But then Kurt Hummel walks into his life, turning his dream into a complicated affair. Klaine AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Helloooo everyone! And welcome to my bran new Klaine AU!**

**I got the idea for this one thanks to a picture Chord tweeted once, some time ago, and I had to write it. I won't tell you which picture so I don't spoil any details ;) But I certainly hope you'll enjoy!**

**IMP is 21 chapters long. It has been completely written since March or April (can't remember exactly), so as usual, I'll be updating weekly.**

**Standing ovation for my beautiful beta, Wutif, and another for Brandi who made the cover art for this fic.**

**I own nothing.**

* * *

It all started with a funeral.

Blaine Anderson wrapped his mother in a one-armed hug and pulled her closer to his side. She was a small woman, with black curly hair neatly gathered back in a bow, and piercing hazel eyes. No one would have doubted he was her son.

Now, their identical hazel eyes watched as the coffin was lowered into the grave. Blaine felt her trembling and tried to make a comforting sound, but what came out sounded more woeful than anything else.

Two days ago, Blaine picked up the phone to hear his mother's frantic voice on the other end. Between sobs, she explained that Blaine's father had been in a car accident on his way home from work, and died instantly. Blaine had listened to the news numbly, had reassured his mother that he'd be there in half an hour, and then hung up the phone. It was only when he'd arrived to the house where he had grown up in and saw Heather Anderson's tear-stained cheeks that it sank in. His father was gone.

It was overwhelmingly real now, as he watched the shiny wooden coffin sinking into the dirt. His mother took a slow step forward, out of his arms, to drop a red rose into the grave. He took his own step forward then, to throw in his rose and say his goodbye. How could he say goodbye when so much had been left unsaid?

Heather squeezed his hand when he returned to her side, and only seconds later, their family, the family's friends, the neighbors, everyone began approaching them to give them their condolences. Blaine had never understood why people said they were sorry when someone died. Saying they were sorry sounded so wrong, so false, so cliché. What could they possibly be sorry for?

But he was an Anderson boy, raised to be unfailingly polite, so he nodded appropriately every time someone spoke those words to him. He kept his gaze fastened to the ground, as if staring at the grave would eventually help him make sense of what had happened.

And yet... how can you simply accept that life can just end so quickly? His father had left his office for home, as he had done every day for the past thirty years, planning to have dinner with his wife, perhaps having a glass of red wine and maybe watching the news as he relaxed before heading to bed, where he would probably read over some report from work. But that routine was now broken, and Blaine couldn't help wondering what would've happened if his father had gotten a last minute phone call, or if he'd had been stopped by someone on the way out. Would he still be alive today? Would things have remained as they had always been?

Heather squeezed his hand again, and Blaine tore his eyes away from the place where his father would rest for all of eternity. Eternity. What an unfathomable concept that was. It was impossible to understand something as vast as eternity, but then again, it had seemed impossible to believe Mark Anderson could die so suddenly too.

"We should go now," Heather whispered, although she seemed reluctant to move away, to leave Mark there all alone in the cold, cold ground.

"We can stay as long as you need to," Blaine said reassuringly, slipping his arm around her shoulders again.

But Heather shook her head, then dabbed at her tears delicately with the sodden handkerchief she'd used all afternoon. "No. Everyone will go to the house soon and we need to be there to receive them."

Blaine sighed, dreading it. He had never understood the need people had to get together after funerals, eat and behave as if there was something to celebrate. But the Andersons had always had a busy social life, and there were dozens of people waiting to offer their sympathy to both Heather and Blaine. And Blaine always did what he was expected to do.

The drive back was mostly silent, except for the occasional quiet sniffs coming from the passenger seat, where Heather was staring out the window. Blaine couldn't possibly imagine how his mother was feeling at a moment like this, what her thoughts were. He couldn't imagine how it would feel to lose the man you had loved for more than half your life.

The Andersons had a nice house on the outskirts of Westerville. It had a big, white, welcoming door and large windows, and a little balcony overlooking the backyard on the other side. The grey stone front made the house look elegant and timeless, and his mother's well-cared for flowerbeds made it look graceful. Blaine had always thought the house wasn't cozy enough; it had too many rooms for only three people. When he was a kid Blaine had felt so lonely in the empty hallways and quiet rooms. When he was a teenager, he had appreciated the privacy a little more, but he had still longed for something less formal.

He parked the car in the driveway and helped his mother out, keeping a hand on her back to guide her inside, to show her he was still there. She kissed his cheek as he opened the door, and then he told her to go sit in the living room to relax for a moment while he prepared for when people started arriving.

Blaine walked into the kitchen and allowed himself a moment to press his hands to the cold granite countertops. He had been reacting automatically since his mother's panicked call, and his self-control was starting to wear thin. He had forced himself to remain calm, to be helpful, to not let his own grief show until this day was over, but he was sure there was a price to pay once all the details were done.

* * *

Soon the house was filled with the smell of too many flowers and too much food, and the sound of multiple conversations. Heather had resumed her role as hostess as soon as the first person arrived, and once again Blaine was surprised at what a strong woman she was, putting on a brave face and forcing herself to interact with people when she clearly was hurting deeply inside.

Blaine's attention drifted away from his mother when he felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned to find one of his father's business partners standing there.

"Mark was a great man, Blaine," he said solemnly. "We worked together, but we were friends, too. Whenever we went out for lunch after a meeting, he always talked about you."

Blaine's eyebrows shot up in surprise at that. He sounded perplexed when he spoke. "He did?"

"Of course! When you were a little boy, he often talked about taking you to the office with him, so you could see what he did. He was always too busy to actually do it, but I know he wanted you to see his world," the man gave Blaine a quick pat in the back and a sad smile. "If I can do anything for you or your mother, please let me know."

Blaine merely nodded his thanks before he was left alone again, this time with different thoughts. His father had talked about him during lunch with his associates and friends? The man he remembered and the man that had been just described to him didn't quite match.

He took a sip of water and loosened his black skinny tie a little. Blaine wanted nothing more than disappear, in that corner of the living room, on his own, and think, but one of his neighbors approached him then, and he knew it wasn't the time to dwell on it. He took a deep breath and listened for the hundreth time that day about what a great man his dad had been.

He would have to wait and put the pieces together later, and maybe then he'd be able to remember the man everyone else had known, instead of the one who had raised him.

* * *

It was late when the house was finally empty again. Silence settled over it like a thick blanket, not even the sounds from the neighborhood seemed to penetrate through the windows.

Blaine decided to stay for the night. It had been a very hard day for both of them and he didn't want to leave his mother alone. He went into his old bedroom and sat on the bed. It still looked much like it had when he was in high school: the light green walls that matched the throw pillows on the bed; the old football his father had gotten him, autographed by one of his favorite players from the Buckeyes was still on top of the dresser. A few old photographs were scattered around here and there; there were still a couple of trophies from polo and singing competitions. The only thing that looked different were his bookshelves. They had been full of books when he still lived here, but all those books were now in his current apartment in Westerville, though now he wished he had left a few behind. Those books were comforting to him, and he could really use some comfort right now. Just running his fingers down the worn spines of the books, or letting his eyes linger on the familiar words on the pages would've been enough to lighten his heavy heart.

Instead, he took off his jacket and tie and let them carelessly draped on the chair at the desk. He rolled the sleeves of his white shirt up to his elbows and ran his hand through his hair, loosening the gel that kept it tamed. He rummaged in his bag for a moment and then moved to the bathroom to take his contacts out and replace them with his black-rimmed glasses. His eyes felt tired, all of him was tired, but he knew that if he got into bed, he wouldn't be able to sleep. Not yet, at least.

Deciding to go back downstairs and maybe find something to drink and eat since he had barely touched any food all day, Blaine left his room and went into the kitchen to find his mother was already there. She was wearing a white silk robe on top of her pajamas, sitting at the kitchen table and staring down into her cup of tea as if it held all of the answers to every single question in the universe.

Blaine leaned against the doorway and watched her for a couple of seconds. "Are you okay?"

Heather's head snapped up in surprise. "Oh. I didn't hear you come in, Blaine, dear." Her fingers curled around the mug, instinctively looking for some warmth. "I'm okay, yes."

Blaine moved to the fridge and pulled it open. He looked inside and then grabbed some chicken and mustard to make a sandwich. He worked quietly at the counter, and only spoke up again when he was sitting at the table, opposite his mother. "You can't sleep either?"

She gave him a sad little smile. "When you're used to sharing your bed with your husband for so many years, finding his side empty and cold doesn't exactly help you rest." After a sip of tea and a soft sigh, she asked, "you're having trouble sleeping, too?"

Blaine nodded. "I guess I just have a lot on my mind right now."

"Anything you want to talk about?" She offered.

"No. It's... it's about him, and I don't want you to..." Blaine muttered, unsure.

Heather grabbed his hand and looked into his eyes. "Honey, just because he's gone, it doesn't mean I can't talk about him, or that I don't want to. Yes, it hurts, but pretending it never happened won't change how I feel. If there's something you want to talk about, you can do it."

She let go of his hand and he took a bite off his sandwich to gain some time. He didn't know how to word what he was feeling, and that was unusual, because words had always been friends of his. He had always been able to rely on words to express himself, whether he sang about it or he wrote about it, or he read about it.

"I'm afraid I missed my chance to really get to know who my father was," Blaine started, frowning down at his food.

"What do you mean?" Heather asked.

"Everyone talked about him today, and most of the things they said, didn't have anything to do with what I saw on him while I was growing up, or over these past few years," Blaine explained. "I know he was a good man, I know he was good at his job... but what about everything else?" Blaine was frustrated. For so many years, his father had been an enigma for him, but somehow Blaine had always thought he had time to unravel the mystery, to understand, to ask the questions he'd never dared to ask. And now...

Heather sighed. "He never hid from you. He was always the man you saw."

"That makes no sense," Blaine retorted, pushing the plate with the sandwich away. "Of course he hid from me. Of course that wasn't who he was. He was always too busy and uncommunicative... He..." Blaine paused and closed his eyes. His thoughts were a mess and the stress of the last few days was catching up to him. He was exhausted. "John told me today that he always used to talk about me when they went out for lunch together."

Heather nodded. "I know. He liked talking about you."

The frustration was growing stronger inside of him, tightening his chest. "But _that_ doesn't make any sense!" He said again. "He didn't even like me, mom, why would he talk about me with his friends?"

Heather's hazel eyes went wide and she seemed honestly shocked. "Blaine... how can you say your father didn't like you? He loved you, so much. You were his only son."

"His only son who is gay?" Blaine replied bitterly. "You think I don't know he was disappointed in me?"

Heather shook her head. "Oh, Blaine, dear. You really _didn't_ know him if that's what you think."

Blaine's confusion must have shown on his face, because Heather took a last sip of tea and then reached for his hand.

"I remember when I first met him, he reminded me of one of those characters in those old black and white movies, the perfect gentleman. He had been raised to be one, and he was perhaps a little too respectful and quiet." Her tone and her gaze became a little dreamy and Blaine's heart broke a little at that, thinking she had lost the man she clearly loved so deeply. "He never really found it easy to talk about his feelings. He was always better at communicating on a professional level, actually. He was a little distant, but I never doubted for a second that he loved me as much as I loved him. It was just who he was, Blaine," she squeezed his hand gently. "When you were a little boy, he changed a little. He was less distant, more caring. He spent long afternoons playing outside with you, rolling on the grass in his expensive suits," she laughed a bit at that, and Blaine thought hard for a moment. He had been too young to remember all of that, but he thought he'd dreamed about it. "But when you were almost ten, the company went through a bit of a crisis, and your father had to spend more time at the office. He was too busy and overstressed, and there were times he was worried we weren't going to make it, and by the time we were back on our feet, financially, and the company was out of trouble, you were around thirteen. He found it much harder getting close to a teenager, especially since you were going through so many extra changes, coming to terms with your sexuality. You were locked in your room, reading all the time, and, to be fair, neither of us knew how to approach you sometimes. It's hard on everyone, having a teenage son."

Blaine replayed her words in his head, thoughtfully. "That still doesn't mean he liked me. He liked the little boy he played with, not me. Not who I am now."

Heather stood up and took her empty mug to the sink. "He was worried about you, and sometimes he didn't know how to deal with that."

"He wasn't even happy when I got into college," Blaine said, remembering the way his father had frowned when he showed him his acceptance letter.

"Again, he was more worried. He always thought you lacked a bit of ambition, and he was worried you would have trouble finding a job," Heather explained patiently.

"I have a job," Blaine said stubbornly.

"Yes, Blaine. You do." She sat back at the table, this time next to him, and put a hand on his knee. "Being worried about your child is something you'll understand when you become a father yourself." She smiled a little at the thought. "But for now, I can tell you this: maybe there were some things he didn't understand, things he didn't know how to say or show, but he loved you, no matter what." She stood up, ready to walk out of the kitchen, but stopped at the doorway. "And Blaine? He was very proud of you."

Blaine took a sharp intake of breath (those words. He had always wanted to hear those words), and only nodded in response. His head was much more of a mess than it had been before this conversation.

Even if he was completely exhausted, it was hard for Blaine to fall asleep that night.

* * *

Walking down the aisles, Blaine stopped every few shelves to put a book back in its spot. It was the quiet time before lunch period, and soon the library would be filled with boys who had forgotten to do their homework, or who preferred to use that time to get their work done so they wouldn't have to worry about it during the weekend.

After graduating from high school at Dalton Academy, the prestigious school his father had attended, Blaine had gone to Ohio State to get a English major, and as soon as he was done with that, he transferred to a different school to get a master in Library Sciences. He loved books, he wanted to spend his life surrounded by them, and even though his dad had had his doubts about his son's future, Blaine was doing alright. Once he was done with his studies, he had been hired at his old school, and he was now in charge of the library in Dalton.

He was comforted by the familiarity of the buildings, the uniforms, the teachers. It was a nice place to work, even if he didn't have a lot of career opportunities there, like his father had wanted for him. But there was one thing Mark Anderson had been wrong about, and that was Blaine's lack of ambition.

Maybe he didn't aspire to become the president of the United States, or a billionaire with his own multinational company. Maybe he didn't want to be a scientist and discover the cure for cancer, or become a lawyer and work for the most important people in the country. But he had dreams, even if they weren't as big as his father thought they should be.

He wanted love. He wanted a kind, sweet man he could go home to every night; a man who would eventually get down on one knee and ask him to marry him. He wanted the kind of romance he had often read about, but never really experienced. He wanted a family, a couple of kids, a nice little house with a picket fence where he could see them grow. He wanted a nice, full life. He was the first to admit he was a hopeless romantic. And when it came to work...

Blaine knew exactly what he wanted in that aspect, too.

He put the last book in the History section (third shelf, section D), and then walked back to the front desk and slipped behind the counter. He checked the time on the computer: it was almost lunch time, and Blaine was leaving earlier than usual today.

It had been a couple of weeks since his father's death, and now that all the paperwork was done, Mark's lawyer had called Blaine and his mother to ask them to meet him at his office to go over his will. Blaine was sure it was merely a formality: he already knew that his father had arranged for most of his assets to go to his wife, Heather Anderson, and the rest to Blaine. Blaine knew it was probably going to be a substantial amount of money (after all, his father had been one of the three top men in one of Ohio's biggest finance companies), and he was planning to put his part in the bank, since he didn't really need it. He had a nice apartment and a job, a functioning car and enough food in his kitchen. That's all he needed.

He started working on updating the catalogue on the computer while the library was still quite empty, and then once some students arrived, he helped them to find the books they needed. When he checked the time again, it was ten minutes before he was supposed to leave, and the assistant librarian that was going to replace him while he was gone for the afternoon was already there.

He grabbed his things, put his jacket on and walked out of the school, crossing the parking lot to where the staff's cars were parked. Before turning the engine on, he texted his mother to let her know he was on his way.

He had been seeing his mother a lot lately. He made sure to take her out to lunch or dinner every few days and to call her during the day even if he was busy. She seemed to be doing alright, but Blaine knew how overwhelming it could be to be alone with her memories in that big house, especially when she was still very deeply grieving.

"I'll go back to my normal activities soon, dear, don't worry," Heather had reassured him the last time they met for lunch. "It'll take a little while to get back on my feet, but I'm doing okay. Life goes on, I guess."

Her sad sigh hadn't convinced Blaine, not at all, really.

At times like this, Blaine wished he wasn't an only son. He imagined how different things would be if he had an older sister, someone who already had a family of her own, so Heather could be distracted with playing with her grandchildren, to help her get some joy back into her life.

Blaine stopped at a red light and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. It was a nice day, with the sun shining, a brilliant afternoon in early April. The school would soon close for the summer break in a few weeks, and Blaine would have nothing to do until the classes started again in September. Perhaps he could take his mother on some kind of trip? He hadn't travelled since he was still a teenager, and he knew Heather loved it. Maybe a week in Paris would cheer her up? Or lying on some nice beach in Italy?

Blaine pushed those thoughts away momentarily when he arrived to the building where his father's lawyer's office was located. He parked the car and then went inside, taking the elevator to the forth floor, as he had been instructed to do during the phone call.

His mother was already there, sitting in the waiting room. She was wearing an elegant and sober navy skirt and jacket. She almost looked like an executive and Blaine pulled her into a quick hug when she stood to kiss his cheek.

"Have you been waiting long, mom?" He asked.

"Less than five minutes, I think," she answered. "How was work?"

"It was good," Blaine sat next to where she had been sitting and she followed suit. "I'm thinking I may be able to go back again if this goes quickly enough..."

Before they could say anything else, the door of the office in front of them opened, and a young man around Blaine's age emerged, smiling politely at them and introducing himself before leading them inside.

The office was tastefully decorated, and the lawyer – who had introduced himself as Steve Collins – invited them to sit on the two very comfortable chairs on the other side of his mahogany desk. There was a picture of a pretty blonde girl in a frame on it, next to his computer, and Blaine assumed it was his girlfriend. He wondered if he went home to her every night, if they were planning to get married, if they would buy a house with a picket fence…

He realized Steve had started talking.

"… so this is all quite routine," he was explaining. "If it's okay with you, I'll start reading Mr. Anderson's will now."

He waited until Heather nodded quietly, and then he began.

"I, Mark Anderson…" Steve began. Shortly after hearing his father's name, Blaine was lost again, zoned out in his own thoughts.

Mark Anderson. His father. He was even more of a mystery to Blaine, after the conversation he'd had with his mother in the kitchen the night of the funeral. If he had been so proud of his son, if he had loved him as much as his wife assured he had, why hadn't he tried harder to have a closer relationship with Blaine? Why had he allowed his son to become a complete stranger to him? Blaine knew he hadn't been the easiest of teenagers: he'd always liked locking himself up in his room and losing himself in fantasy worlds, fictitious alternatives that kept him away from the reality that was his life. He had been taunted ceaselessly when he was in middle school, and it had only gotten worse after his classmates took his journal, where he had been writing a story, something he kept looking for in the books he read, but never found. A story where he could see himself, a story where the ending was exactly what he dreamed. It was the story of a lonely prince who was rescued by another prince. Worst of all, he had made the deadly mistake of giving that heroic prince the name of Brian Peterson, universally considered by all the girls – and him – the cutest boy in the school.

Blaine had never been as embarrassed, as mortified, as when he had to sit at his table during lunch period, paralyzed by humiliation as he listened to one of the boys reading aloud his deepest dreams and fantasies in a mocking voice. He had cried himself to sleep every night for weeks after that. He had often pretended to be sick to avoid going to school, and when he had to attend, he had learned to walk down the hallways on his way to his classes, with his eyes on the floor and his shoulders hunched, trying to be invisible.

That didn't stop the other boys from pushing him around and locking him in the janitor's closet for hours, though, led by the boy he was crushing on, but being invisible was the only thing he could think of that would make his life a little easier.

Had that been the moment when he truly lost his father? When he missed his chance to be close to him, to be the son he'd always wanted to be? While he was trying to hide from everyone?

Blaine forced himself to shake those thoughts away and turn his attention back to what the lawyer was saying. He was listing all of Mark's major possessions (two cars, the house in Westerville, the little cabin in Vermont), and declared all of them were now passing to Heather before moving on to the money Mark had been saving since he had started the company.

"The five point four million dollars will be split as it follows," Steve read, and then paused for a moment to clear his throat. "Fifty percent will go to my wife, Heather M. Anderson. Thirty percent will go to my son, Blaine Devon Anderson. And the rest will be split equally and donated to the LGBT House Project and the Westerville Public Library."

Blaine could only blink in surprise for a moment. Then, before Steve had time to continue, he finally found his voice.

"Wait," he muttered, and he sounded a little breathless. "What does that mean? I don't…"

Steve put the will down for a moment. "He told me when he wrote this that he knew those were two very important things for you. He said the LGBT House Project is an organization that helps teenagers who are homeless, after coming out to their families, find a place to stay, where they can continue their education. And he told me that the library was always a place very dear to you, a refuge where you spent a lot of time when you were younger."

Blaine didn't notice his eyes had filled with tears until his mother put a hand on his and he turned to her to find her face was blurry. He wiped them away quickly, trying to think of something to say, but unable to find something appropriate. He ended up nodding, indicating to Steve that he could continue with the reading.

He resumed where he'd left off, stating that Mark's share of the company would be split equally between the remaining associates, to be paid for an insurance policy, and the proceed divided equally between Blaine and his mother, but Blaine again barely listened. This time he wasn't distracted by his doubts, though.

This time he was distracted because he was simultaneously sad and touched. He couldn't believe he had judged his father so wrongly. He had told his mother he had always known Mark Anderson was a good man.

What he had failed to realize, was that he had also been a loving, proud father.

* * *

**So there it is! I hope you liked it! Review and let me know!**

**I'd like to take this opportunity to talk to you about The Box Scene Project Annual Charity Giveaway. This year, I've donated one of my Klaine fics, Heart Without a Home, which you can get in paperback for a $25 donation. Most of the fandom's favorites are included in the list of fics you can get (and there are other things besides fics!). The donations will go to Baycat, a great organization. You can find out more about all of this in The Box Scene Project's Tumblr, theboxscene. Check it out, and help as much as you can, even if it's just by spreading the information around. And if any of you get HWAH, please send me pictures!**

**Have a wonderful week! Thanks for reading!**

**L.-**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi guys! Welcome to chapter 2 of In My Place!**

**Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews! You've been incredibly kind so far and I'm excited to share more of this story with all of you.**

**I've received a few reviews/comments/complains where people ask why I don't update more often, since the story is completely written. There are a few reasons. First of all, my beta is a person, not a machine - just because I have a lot written, it doesn't mean she had the time to go through everything already. She sends me chapters back weekly, if she can. Second, the reason why I spent most of my Summer break (that's December to April here in Argentina) writing both On My Shoulder and In My Place was because I knew I wouldn't have time to write once my classes started - I have two jobs and I'm taking 8 classes - and I didn't want to have you guys waiting around for chapters or stories or whatever for weeks or even months. That's why I decided to write as much as I could while I had the time. If I updated more often, IMP would be finished in just a few weeks, and then there would be nothing new for a veeeery long time. I'd rather post new chapters every week (and you guys know I update EVERY week, because I hate keeping anyone waiting more than necessary) than nothing at all for months. And lastly, I think weekly updates are the right amount. Have in mind that most authors update every two weeks or so - we all have lives outside of fanfiction. Also, the writing is done, but the editing isn't, so when my beta sends stuff back to me, I have to go through it and take the time to make the corrections and analize her suggestions. That's almost as time demanding as writing.**

**Anyway, I'll shut up now and let you read. I hope you guys understand.**

**Forgot to mention that the title to this story comes from the beautiful song by Coldplay.**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

Blaine didn't go back to work at all that day after leaving the lawyer's office. He kissed his mother goodbye on her cheek, got in his car, and drove straight back to his apartment.

After he had locked the door, locking the rest of the world outside, he slid down the wall to the floor and hugged his knees, overwhelmed.

This changed _everything_.

For his whole life he had been afraid of being close to his father, of telling him what he thought, what his dreams were, who he really was… and now he'd discovered that he could've had him on his side all along. Now he discovered that his mother's words in the kitchen were nothing but the truth (had he really been proud of Blaine?) and he had missed his chance. Now his father was dead, and he'd probably died just as deluded as Blaine had been. What if Mark Anderson had died thinking that his son didn't like him, much less love him? What if he had died thinking he had been a failure as a father, when Blaine had never opened up enough to let him in?

But the contents of Mark's will proved to Blaine that he had listened to more than just what Blaine had actually said. He knew what was important to his son, and he had made sure that those things were included in his last wishes. He'd made absolutely sure that his son knew, even if it was too late, that _he_ had been very important to _him_.

In any other circumstances, Blaine would have been embarrassed to break down the way he did now. He wasn't a kid anymore, he was twenty seven years old, and he hadn't cried like this since he'd endured those horrible hurtful adolescent years at school.

But this… this changed _everything_.

* * *

"You look... really tired," Heather commented carefully, as she reached for her glass of lemonade. "Is everything okay, dear?"

Blaine looked up at his mother, who seemed seriously concerned. "I'm fine, mom. I've... been thinking a lot, since I heard the terms of dad's will."

Heather put her fork down and leaned over the table to show Blaine that he had her undivided attention. "What have you been thinking about?"

"How thoughtful it was of him to make those donations to the things I care about," Blaine shrugged, his hazel eyes now focused on his salad to avoid his mother's gaze.

"There's something else," she said softly, and Blaine sighed.

They were in a nice restaurant. It was a pleasant Sunday and they were sitting outside in the terrace, enjoying the beautiful spring weather. Blaine believed his mother needed things like sunshine, flowers and lunch dates, to encourage a positive attitude.

It felt wrong to darken such a lovely day with what was going through Blaine's mind.

"I think, maybe..." Blaine gave up any pretense of being interested in his food. "I spent so much time believing he didn't care about me, and now, knowing he did… and the fact that I didn't give him the space he deserved in my life is killing me. I ruined what could've been..."

"Blaine," his mother interrupted kindly. "Blaming yourself for something that 'could have been' is pointless. You were just an insecure kid. Neither of you knew how to get closer."

"He died a month ago, mom, not ten years," Blaine retorted bitterly. "I wasn't a kid last Christmas when I sat at the same table as him and didn't make any effort to change things."

"I still think you're being too hard on yourself," Heather insisted. "Your father didn't know how to change things between you either. I think donating to those places was his attempt to let you know that he cared. Even when he didn't say much, he was still always listening to you."

Blaine closed his eyes. His mother had just echoed his thoughts at the lawyer's office. "I guess I'm just sad he had to die for me to realize how he really felt."

Heather smiled sadly. "I know, dear, but there's nothing to be done about it now."

They were silent for a few moments, letting their thoughts wander, grieving the man they both missed. The waiter stopped at the table to refill their lemonade and Heather appeared to deem his interruption as a good opportunity to move on.

"Have you thought what you're going to do with your inheritance?" She asked as casually as she could.

Blaine bit his lip thoughtfully. He had originally thought about putting it in the bank for when he wanted to buy a house, or get married. But now Blaine was second guessing himself. Had his father intended to encourage him to make his dreams a reality?

"Well..." Blaine cleared his throat uncertainly. "I think I'm going to use his bequest to open the bookstore I've wanted since I was a kid."

His mother seemed pleasantly surprised at his decision. "Really? Blaine, that's fantastic."

"I love working at Dalton's library, and I love being a librarian. But I've always wanted to know what it would feel like to be my own boss, to have something that I created, to make the decisions..."

Heather smiled, and Blaine thought that was the first heartfelt smile he had seen from her since his father had died. "You know, I think that's exactly what your dad would have wanted for you."

Blaine felt a pleasant tingling of pleasure. "Do you really think he'd be okay with me using his money for that?"

"Yes. I think he'd be more than okay with anything that makes you happy," Heather answered sweetly.

Blaine felt a weight suddenly lift from his shoulders.

* * *

Blaine had to stand on the tip of his toes to reach the Algebra book, and once he had it, he smiled triumphantly before handing it to the boy who had asked him for his assistance to find it. After thanking him, the boy turned and headed to a table with the book, so he could start working on his homework.

Blaine went back to his desk, absently pushing up his glasses on the bridge of his nose, his attention back to the screen of his computer. Since he had presented his idea of the bookstore to his mother, Blaine had been looking for the ideal location online during his quiet times at the library and his even quieter nights at home. He knew exactly what he wanted, and now he just had to find it.

He clicked through a few more pages without being interrupted by any of the students looking for a book, until he noticed someone standing near his desk, looking down at him.

"Hi, Blaine."

Blaine snapped his head up, recognizing the voice immediately and hating his immediate blush when he saw the tall, attractive blonde man staring at him with those disarming green eyes.

"Uhm. Hi. Hi, Mr. Altwood," Blaine replied nervously, his hand instantly moving to his glasses to shift them up his nose, as he tended to every time he was anxious about something.

The other man laughed lightly. "Oh, come on, Blaine. We're close to the same age! You can call me Josh," he winked charmingly.

"You're a teacher here," Blaine pointed out needlessly, as if that explained his apprehension.

"And you're the librarian," Josh shrugged. "Different title, but we have the same status."

Blaine managed a little smile. "Right. Uhm. Can I do something for you, Josh?"

"Actually, yes," Josh confirmed emphatically. He looked for a piece of paper in his pocket. "I was thinking about including some information from this book in one of my lessons, and I wanted to make sure there were enough copies available here in case the students need them for an assignment I'm giving them."

Blaine took the piece of paper Josh offered and typed the name of the book to check the catalogue inventory. He was very aware of Josh's probing eyes on him the whole time, and he hoped his cheeks weren't still on fire.

He really sucked at talking to hot guys.

"We have three copies at the moment," Blaine informed him, slipping into his professional role as a shield. "If you think more will be needed, I could try talking to the dean..."

"Oh, no, no, that won't be necessary," Josh smiled brightly at him. "But thank you."

"Good," Blaine said, a little awkwardly, as he slid the paper back over the desk to Josh.

"You know, I was wondering why..." Josh leaned intimately over the desk, his voice going a little lower, "I never see you in the staff room. We've both been working here for a while and I know practically nothing about you."

Blaine once again pushed up nervously on his glasses, wondering why Josh would care. "There's really nothing very interesting to say."

"I'm sure that's not true," Josh said, smiling in that way that was so unfair because it made him shiver in a mix of anxiety and excitement. "Would you go out for dinner with me this weekend?"

Blaine blinked in astonishment. "Dinner? With you?"

"Yes, with me. Do you like Japanese food? There's a lovely new place I've been dying to try," as he leaned even closer, Josh's voice was getting softer and lower, and it was _doing_ _things_ to Blaine.

"Well, I..." _Say yes, say yes, say yes_. "I would lo-... oh, I actually can't," Blaine suddenly realized, terribly disappointed. He had made arrangements with an agent to visit potential locations for his bookstore and he had been excited about it all week. "I have several appointments this weekend and I... I don't really have time to move them..."

Josh frowned briefly but then went back to smiling. "I understand. Why don't you let me know when you're free, then? We can reschedule whenever you want."

Blaine apologetically nodded his agreement, then watched Josh turn with a wink and walk out of the library.

Blaine barely managed to stop himself from banging his head against the desk mostly because a student approached him to check out a book. He didn't know Josh very well, but he seemed nice. He was certainly attractive, and it wasn't hard at all to picture Josh's face as the husband in his romantic marriage fantasies.

But since Blaine was so stupidly shy, he would probably end up alone forever.

He forced himself to take a deep breath and stop feeling sorry for himself. Not all was lost. Yes, he had to turn him down this time, but Josh had told him to let him know when he was free. The door hadn't closed yet, even if it was only ajar.

Blaine just needed to be brave enough to push it open and walk through it next time.

* * *

It was a disaster.

None of the places Blaine saw were anywhere close to right. There was something critically wrong with all of them, and if there was one thing Blaine didn't want to compromise on, it was the place he had been dreaming of owning for years. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he wouldn't settle for anything less.

He dropped his keys on the small table by the front door when he returned to his solitary apartment. It was nearly dark outside and he had been out since very early, going from store to store, without seeing anything that could conceivably work. He took his light jacket off and hung it in the closet before going into the kitchen, opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass. He took it with him to the living room, where he kicked his shoes off and set his glass on the coffee table before he flumped sullenly down on the couch. He was tired, and more than a little frustrated.

He knew he had _just_ started looking, but what if he never found the perfect place he could already imagine every flawless detail of in his head?

Blaine shook his head glumly, dismissing the idea that it wasn't out there somewhere waiting for him to find it and took a sip of his wine before letting his head drop back against the couch. He was being ridiculous. It was just a bookstore. He would find the place eventually. It wasn't like he was desperate to leave his job: he loved working at Dalton. He just wanted to try something different.

Being a librarian in the safe, secure world of Dalton Academy meant he was sheltered. He hid amongst the shelves and the books he loved, and only appeared if someone asked for his help, but he didn't take any risks. Having a business of his own, even if it was only a small bookshop, would change that.

It thrilled him and it terrified him at the same time.

But if there was one thing he was sure of, it was that he wasn't going to give up his search until he found the perfect place.

* * *

For the next few weeks, Blaine filled every spare moment he had with appointments to see every possible locations for the bookshop. The best time to give his dream a shot would be during the summer break, so he wouldn't have to leave Dalton at the end of the school's year, when he was needed most. If the bookshop became a success, he would be able to let the dean know he wasn't coming back with enough time to hire a replacement before the next term began. It would be a win-win situation for everyone.

Once he had seen every prospective place in Westerville, Blaine started looking into the surrounding towns. That, and visiting his mother regularly was consuming all his free time, and weeks later he still hadn't taken Josh on his invitation to go out with him. Blaine promised himself he would call him when he had enough time, but he knew he was stalling because dating scared him, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself.

"Do you want me to go with you for another opinion, Blaine?" His mother asked him one night, as they worked together making dinner. "Because I have the feeling you're being too picky…"

"What's wrong with wanting it to be perfect?" Blaine retorted defensively as he mashed the potatoes.

Heather simply kissed his cheek, silently smiling, and took a bowl of beans to the table. She knew what a big step this store was going to be for her bookworm son. When he was ready, he would get on with it.

* * *

It had been a very long week, and an even more interminable day. Blaine would never understand why students left everything for the very last possible minute, why they couldn't study for a test earlier or would leave writing a paper until less than two hours before it was due, but regardless, the library at Dalton had been a continuos succession of erratic boys in blue blazers rushing in and out, as Blaine patiently helped them find books and reshelved the ones they'd abandoned.

If he hadn't been as exhausted as he was on yet another store hunt with his agent, Blaine would have realized sooner that the place he had just walked into was the one he had been dreaming of finding forever.

It was the third place he'd looked at that day, and he'd had to drive all the way to Lima to see it. The previous two hadn't been anything special, but this one…

"It needs a lot of work," the realtor said, not even trying to sound enthusiastic anymore. She was convinced Blaine would never find what he was looking for, not after rejecting all the other stores she had showed him. "But the price and the location are well within your range," she added, in a desperate attempt to justify having to drive all the way to Lima.

Blaine's hazel eyes took everything in: yes, it needed a lot of work. The floors were covered with a decrepit grey carpet, the walls needed patching and new paint, the ceiling had a few holes through which he could see a tangled skein of loose wires, so the electric system would definitely need to be inspected, and the tiny bathroom was moldy and damp.

But it also had large bay windows that would allow the sunlight into the shop all day, making it cozy and welcoming, and the barren interior was actually part of its potential. He could do anything he wanted in here. Blaine took a few more evaluating steps inside, his imagination working at full speed, imagining the walls painted in warm colors, the place filled to the rafters with books shelved on nice wooden bookcases, and some comfortable chairs here and there. Perhaps knocking down that storage wall to make it even more spacious, to maybe add a little children's section on that side…

"Okay, if you're done here, the next place I'll have to show you is on…" The realtor started to say, reading her listings without interest. It was evident she just wanted to get this day over with.

"This place is perfect," Blaine interrupted her, still deep into his fantasy, but beginning to smile with excitement.

The realtor's eyes went huge, hardly daring to believe it. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Blaine said decisively, as he turned to look at her. His hands were tingling, needing to start working, to start planning, to start making lists of everything he wanted to do. "How soon can we get possession?"

She blinked and went through a binder she was carrying. "I don't have an offer here with me, but I could prepare one for Monday, and then it's up to the lawyers. The place is available now."

"Monday it is," Blaine grinned.

He couldn't wait to get started.

* * *

Blaine signed an offer first thing that Monday, proposing a price thousands under what he would have been willing to pay, the asking price a bargain because of the rundown condition of the place. After that, he stopped by his mother's house to take her out for lunch to celebrate. They went to her favorite restaurant and, even though he had to go back to work after they were done eating, Blaine ordered champagne. Reasons to celebrate weren't very numerous lately, and he decided this one qualified as wonderful news.

Heather reached across the table to take his hand after they had toasted to Blaine's dreams finally taking shape, and looked at him in the eyes. "You know, Blaine, dear, I understand that you won't be able to spend every spare minute with me any more…"

"I like spending time with you, and I still will" Blaine replied immediately, squeezing her fingers gently.

"And I'm really glad you do, but before your father died, I only saw you for dinner once a week, and that was only if you weren't busy," she leveled a knowing gaze at him. "Just because I'm a widow now, doesn't mean you have to be constantly by my side all the time, taking care of me. I'm not helpless."

"Mom, don't be like that," he said sweetly. "Spending time with you and taking care of you aren't obligations. Those are things I enjoy doing."

"I'm going to ask you a question, dear, and I hope you won't get mad at me, and you'll answer honestly," Heather leaned a bit more towards him. "When was the last time you went out on a date?"

Blaine could feel the color rising in his cheeks and he took a sip of champagne to gain some time to compose himself. "Why does that matter?"

"Because I'm pretty sure the only people you spend time with are the Dalton kids that go to the library, and me," Heather answered, and she was clearly worried. "You need friends your age, and you need to go out on dates, have fun, maybe find some romance…" She sighed and reached to tuck one of his curl that had broken out of the gel back in place. "You're not in high school anymore, Blaine. You're not a teenager anymore. You're a man, and you are allowed to live your own life. You don't need to hide amongst your books anymore."

Blaine swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. "That's a pretty funny thing to say when I'm about to open a bookshop…"

Heather cracked a tiny, tight little smile. "You know what I mean."

"Mom…" Blaine whispered, as a warning.

"You've already spent too many years being lonely and unhappy, Blaine," Heather whispered back, the grip of her hand tightening slightly in his. "Don't you think it's time for you to change that?"

Blaine wished he had an honest answer to give her.

* * *

The spare time that Blaine had previously dedicated to find the place for his bookstore was now redirected to planning all the renovations he needed to create his new store from the shambles it was now. He had made a list of everything it should have, but when it came to rebuilding, rewiring, knocking walls down… he was useless, and he knew it. So he found a few phone numbers from handymen to consult with.

He scheduled his initial consultation for Saturday morning. He arrived at the bookshop-to-be half an hour earlier, buzzing from excitement, with a medium drip he had gotten on the coffee place around the corner, the Lima Bean. He spread out all of his carefully-written ideas and plans on a small, creaky old wooden table he had found while exploring in the backroom after purchasing the place. The backroom was full of stuff he wasn't going to need, and others that could come in handy at some point, but he still needed to go through it all and sort it.

He had also found a worn old armchair that he intended to reupholster, maybe change the ugly brown velveteen fabric for something more lively that he could possibly use in the children's area…

He added that idea to the list, so he wouldn't forget.

Blaine took a sip from his lukewarm coffee just as someone knocked on the grimy glass door (point number fifteen on his list: clean absolutely every inch of the glass to let in the light). He quickly stood up and moved to the door to unlock it, smiling with anticipation at finally beginning to make this dream a reality.

And that was when his breath hitched and then abandoned him completely, because the most attractive man he had ever seen was standing before him.

His chestnut hair looked as if he had just rolled out of bed, but somehow, instead of making Blaine want to offer him a comb and maybe some product to tame it, he wanted to run his fingers through it to gently smooth its thick tresses back. He had pink, luscious lips, and the pale skin of his jaw and chin was dusted with a light layer of stubble, below a scattering of faint freckles over his nose and cheeks. Blaine wished he would take off the black Ray-Ban wayfarer sunglasses so he could see what color his eyes were, but his attention was soon drawn to other areas of the man's body.

He was wearing a tight, tight, _tight_ white short-sleeved t-shirt, and the way it hugged his arms and chest made Blaine's mouth go dry. The pair of impeccably fitted tight washed-out jeans he wore were loosely cuffed over black leather combat boots.

But what really made a heated shiver run down Blaine's spine was the leather tool belt hanging low around the guy's hips. He hadn't even _known_ he had a thing for guys with tool belts… until _now_.

The man cleared his throat and a sharp eyebrow arched over the rim of his sunglasses.

"Oh," Blaine shook his head blankly as he felt his embarrassing, omniprescent blush making its way up his face. "Y-you must be Kurt Hummel. I'm Blaine Anderson." He extended a hand, hoping it wasn't sweaty but not wanting to make it obvious how nervous he suddenly was by wiping it on his pants first.

"Yes, I'm Kurt," he answered, and his voice was a lot higher than Blaine had expected. He certainly hadn't sounded like that on the phone. Kurt's hand darted in and shook his so quickly that Blaine didn't have enough time to react, there and gone in a flash, as if he hated being touched by creepy guys with sweaty hands. "And now I understand what you meant when you said the place needed a lot of work."

"Almost a full renovation, yeah," Blaine nodded as he moved aside to let him in. Kurt strode to the middle of the room and looked around, his hands propped on his hips brifly distracting Blaine, probably assessing the immense amount of work to be done. "I have a list of all the things I noticed that need work…"

Kurt took his sunglasses off when Blaine handed him the list, and absently hooked them on the collar of his t-shirt as he took it. His eyes were stunning, a flash of blue that Blaine barely had time to appreciate before they were being lowered to read the list.

"Electrical wiring needs to be completely redone, remove the carpet, knock storage wall down, renovate bathroom, fix ceiling, patch holes and paint…" Kurt looked around with his lips thinned, shaking his head in warning. "You really should just knock the whole place down and start over."

Blaine smiled politely and readjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "That would have probably been easier, but, to be honest, I think making those changes and fixing only what needs to be fixed will be better because we'll keep the character of the place. I know exactly what I want it to look like, and building something from zero wouldn't give me that. This place feels right. It just desperately needs some help."

"You need to start with all the electrical stuff first," Kurt commented thoughtfully, as he walked around. "It would make it easier to work on the rest once you have electricity for whatever tools and lighting you need. The natural light may not be enough to work in here sometimes."

"Okay, electric stuff first, then," Blaine grabbed a pen, eager to start organizing the next steps.

"Which wall do you want to knock down?" Kurt asked, expressive eyebrow going up in inquiry.

"That one, the inside wall," Blaine said, pointing at it. "I want to open that section a little more, and as far as I can see, it just cuts the place up, and doesn't really serve any function."

Kurt stepped firmly, listening as he flexed his leg repeatedly to thump on the floor. "Sounds like you have hardwood floors under this old carpet. Hopefully they won't be ruined when it's taken off."

"What if they are ruined? Can they be replaced or refinished?" Blaine asked, pen paused on the notepad where he was writing everything down.

Kurt simply nodded, obviously deep in thought. "What kind of store are you planning to open here?"

Blaine beamed with enthusiasm. "It's going to be a book store."

Kurt snorted dismissively. "A _book store_? In the middle of Ignorance, Ohio?" He rolled his eyes and smirked, barely holding his derisive. "Good luck with _that_."

Blaine felt his enthusiasm falter. "L-lots of people still like to read."

His captivation with the man disappeared as his insecurities made their way to the surface. What if this venture failed? What if his dream wasn't worth it?

Kurt paced around a little more, pointing a few things he noticed that also needed to be checked or repaired. Blaine kept taking notes, but only halfheartedly. It felt like he was picking the place apart, searching flaw after flaw, though the lack of sufficient heating ducts was something he hadn't actually noticed before, imperative in an Ohio winter.

"I need to make a few phone calls, and recheck my calcularions, but I think by tonight I can email you an estimate of what it would cost you to get all this done by tonight," Kurt finally said. "But from what I've seen… I can already tell it's not going to be cheap."

"Okay," Blaine obligingly wrote his email address on piece of paper and passed it to Kurt before putting his notepad down and recapping his pen. "I'll wait for your email, then. I'll probably let you know my decision by the end of next week. I wanted to confer with a few other people, too, so I guess I'll have to weigh my best options…"

Kurt nodded, then unhooked his sunglasses from his shirt and slipped them on. He tucked the piece of paper with Blaine's email address on his jean's front pocket, and Blaine forced himself not to watch how the denim tightened even more as he did so. "Sounds fair."

They shook hands again. Blaine's wasn't sweaty anymore, no longer nervous at all. "We'll be in touch, then."

"Sure. See ya," Kurt turned around and walked out of the store, back out to the sunny Saturday morning, and climbed onto a black pickup truck.

Blaine watched him drive away but he already knew that, no matter what, he wouldn't be calling Kurt back.

He didn't want to spoil making his dream come true by hiring an asshole to help him. Even if he could really appreciate the sexy tool belt look, Blaine didn't want someone who had such a negative attitude about his dearly held hopes working here.

No, that had been the first _and_ last time Kurt Hummel would step into his soon-to-be-perfect-book store.

* * *

**And there we have it! Was anyone expecting to see Kurt coming into the story like this? Share your thoughts and opinions with me!**

**A quick reminder that The Box Scene Project's Charity Giveaway ends tomorrow, Friday 9th, so you still have a bit of time left to get all your favorite fanfiction in paperback! I donated Heart Without a Home, and you can get it for a $25 donation! Check theboxscene in Tumblr for more information.**

**See you guys next week!**

**L.-**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! I hope you're having a lovely day.**

**Thank you so much for all the lovely, positive reviews I've been getting for this story. You're all amazing and I appreciate that you take the time to read and comment. ****I hope you'll like this chapter as well.**

**Hugs and love go out to my beta, Wutif, for her help once again. And I also want to thank Christine, who's been nothing but wonderful, for her input. **

**I own nothing!**

* * *

Was it actually possible that there were no construction workers, or handymen who were actually _good_ at what they did? It wasn't possible that every single guy Blaine interviewed after the fiasco with Kurt Hummel seemed to belong to one of two groups: a) smug guys with no references who pretended to be an expert and wanted to charge Blaine an insane amount of money to likely screw everything up; or b) judgmental assholes that looked him up and down, and patronized him even worse than Kurt had. Blaine could feel a shiver crawling over him, wondering what would happen if those guys ever learned he was gay. It brought back too many memories of high school, years of dark memories he wasn't very eager to be reminded of.

He didn't give up searching, though, because there was _no way_ he was hiring Hummel.

* * *

Blaine looked down at his list. "So, one of the things I want to do is to knock that wall down to open…"

"Oh, no, that would be a terrible idea," said the latest man Blaine was showing around to get an estimate, shaking his head. "You'll ruin the carpet."

"Oh, but that's okay," Blaine said, smiling. "I want to remove that, too."

"Dude, no. You have no idea what you're doing," the man answered, with a condescending eye roll. Was his name Vic? Blaine couldn't remember after seeing so many others. He looked down at his list to see if he had written it down.

Blaine adjusted his glasses on his nose. "Well, no, technically, I don't. But I know the carpet can be removed and the wall has to go though…"

"You should really keep the carpet, dude…" he (yes, his name was Vic) insisted, around a yawn.

Blaine neatly crossed his name off his list.

* * *

"Oh, whoa, painting the wall that color would look so gay, man," the next guy said, laughing.

Blaine didn't react. He just crossed his name off his list, too.

* * *

"Yes, this definitely can be done," Blaine smiled as soon as those words were out of the man's mouth. He was a little older, maybe almost fifty, and had a heavy mustache. "But I'm going to need to hire at least three guys. It's a lot of work."

Blaine's face fell a little. "Three? I know it's a lot, but this is such a small place…"

"I can't do it with less than three," the man replied abruptly. He clapped his hands together, as if the discussion was over. "Now, let's go over the contract details. We'll be taking two meal breaks and a couple of coffee runs each day, and if you wanted to save yourself some time on the clock you could provide us with lunch and cold drinks and…"

Blaine sighed and stopped listening.

* * *

Typing away busily as he updated the book catalogue, Blaine reached for the cup of coffee he had put on his desk without moving his eyes off the screen, but his fingers didn't brush the ceramic mug, so he paused and looked to his left.

And found himself looking right into Josh's amused eyes.

"Hi."

Blaine smiled and hoped he wasn't blushing already. "Hey. How are you?"

"Well, I'm doing better now," Josh grinned and pushed the coffee a little closer to Blaine's hand so he could reach it. "What about you?"

"I'm good, thanks," Blaine said, as he took a sip of coffee, to stop himself from staring at Josh.

"I've heard you're opening a little business," Josh commented, leaning on the desk, apparently ready for a conversation.

"Yes, it's a book store," Blaine answered, putting the coffee back down.

"So I guess that's why you've been too busy to accept my invitation, huh?" Josh bit his lower lip, flirting so obviously that Blaine wasn't sure where to look.

He tried to act as normal as he could. "Well, yes, to be honest. I'm having a hard time finding people to make the changes I want. I didn't know it was going to be so hard to find good construction workers."

Josh chuckled. "Yeah, I know. I remodeled my apartment once and it was a nightmare."

Blaine nodded, sympathetically.

"I'm still hoping you will let me know when you're free, Blaine," Josh said, leaning just a bit closer, so Blaine could smell his heady scent. "I'm really looking forward to taking you out."

Blaine stared at him enthralled, his hormones shutting down his brain and barely managed to croak "right."

With a wink, Josh turned around and walked away. Blaine hurried to take another sip of coffee, since his throat seemed to be awfully dry for some reason.

* * *

It was almost completely dark in the future little book store, the only light coming from the lamp post in the street. Blaine finished gathering his things after spending yet another fruitless afternoon, interviewing possible contractors and then walked out, securing the front door with his key, still amazed that he owned this place. He was on his way to make one of his dreams come true.

Well, if he ever found someone to renovate the place for him, that was.

As Blaine drove home, he started thinking of the choices he had to make. He'd interviewed at least a dozen guys and every one of them had been wrong. He was seriously considering taking some handyman classes and learning to do the work himself, but that would set him back a whole extra year. But most of the guys he'd interviewed could have been characters from The Simpsons, so at this point he was pretty much ready to settle for anyone who came close to competent.

He entered his apartment, dropped his keys in the bowl by the door and stowed his satchel and jacket in the closet. It was very quiet, and as he walked towards the kitchen to see if there was anything he could make for dinner, he thought maybe it was time to get a cat. He could put a little bell around its neck so he could hear it as it moved from room to room, and then that constant feeling of aching loneliness would disappear. It would be nice having someone to cuddle with at night, too. And to have someone to tell about his day… even though he should like worry about his sanity if he started having conversations with a cat.

Sighing forlornly, Blaine opened the fridge. There was some left over spaghetti from the night before and, frankly, after the day he'd had, nothing beat instant gratification. He didn't even bother putting it in the microwave. He grabbed a fork and a bottle of water and went into the living room, where he dropped onto the couch, crossing his ankles under himself, and turned the TV on, finding an old Buckeyes game. He left it on there to fill the silence, as he reconsidered his options.

He closed his mouth around a forkful of spaghetti, and reached to turn on the computer on the coffee table. He ran the contractor search again, to double check that he hadn't missed any ads, rechecking every site he'd already checked. But he had already gone through all the possible options in the area.

Blaine looked at the date on the corner of the screen. The school year was ending in less than a week, and if he wanted to open the book store this summer, he needed to make an immediate decision. He was out of time.

He opened his email and went over the estimates he had saved from the few guys that had gotten far enough to send one. There were only four, and one of them had clearly thought Blaine was an idiot, who had no idea of much it should cost to do what he wanted to do, because the price he had sent him was enough to remodel the Buckingham Palace – twice. He deleted that one. He had the money, but he hated when people tried taking advantage of him like that.

One of the others was the guy with the crew of assistants. Blaine was almost leaning towards him, even if his demands seemed completely irrational. His estimate was outrageous since he would be paying three extra guys to stand aroung half the time.

The last two guys didn't sound good, either. One didn't do any electrical work, so he would need to hire an electrician first, and that could take a couple weeks more to find. And the last one… the last one was Hummel.

Blaine knew he was being obstinate when it came to Hummel. The only real problem he had with him was his snotty attitude. It was obvious the man knew what he was doing, and that he wasn't trying to gouge him. He'd been quite professional in that aspect, but the snarky remarks really, really bothered Blaine. He would be spending quite some time at the book store with whoever ended up working there to ensure the place turned out the way he wanted it to, and Blaine had a hard time dealing with any situation that made him uncomfortable. And there was no way things wouldn't be uncomfortable with Hummel around.

Blaine put the empty pasta bowl down and leaned back against the couch, trying to relax. Hummel seemed to be his only logical option. He was forced to chose between getting his dream under way and having to deal with someone's rude comments and repellent presence, or waiting for who knew how long until he found someone else.

And, honestly, Blaine had waited long enough in his life.

* * *

The next morning, Blaine was sitting at the library desk during the quieter hours before lunch and staring at his emails again. He had been trying to find some way around doing this since the night before. There was no easy solution, other than to tackle it head on.

He finally fished his cellphone out of his pocket and dialed the number, pushed his glasses up on his nose, and then drummed his fingers nervously on the desk as he waited for the call to connect.

"Hello," a bored voice said on the other said.

"Uhm, hi. Mr. Hummel?" Blaine said, his voice rising nervously, as he shifted awkwardly on his seat.

"The one and only. Who's this?"

"It's Blaine Anderson. We met last week? You sent me an estimate for my…"

"Oh, yeah, the book store. I remember," Kurt interrupted, and Blaine was sure he could hear a smirk on his voice. "I'd take a wild guess that you haven't given up on renovating that place yet, right?"

Blaine took a deep breath to boost his fortitude. He could do this. "I was wondering… if you still want the job, when you could start working."

There was a moment of dead silence as Kurt considered it. "I have to finish up on a job, but I'm pretty sure it'll be done by Wednesday, so let's say Thursday, just to be sure?"

"Thursday sounds fine," Blaine nodded. "Is 9 a.m. a good time for you?"

"Yeah, that's fine with me," Kurt answered impassively. There was no interest in his voice, no enthusiasm for a new job, not even a trace of gratitude. It made Blaine uneasy. Didn't he even want the job? "I guess I'll see you then."

It was too late to change his mind. Blaine needed to get on with opening his book store. "See you then."

* * *

Working the last few days of the school year were poignant for Blaine. He'd enjoyed working at Dalton, returning to where he had spent most of his teenage years as a student. Knowing that he might not be coming back after the summer break made him want to linger amongst the bookshelves, saying goodbye.

But another part of him, really, really hoped that he would end up quitting his job as Dalton's librarian, because that meant he'd made his life-long dream a successful reality.

And Blaine could really use more success in his life.

* * *

When Blaine arrived to the bookshop on Thursday morning, Kurt was actually already there, leaning against his pick-up truck. He was wearing tight jeans and combat boots and that damn toolbelt again. His body-hugging V-neck t-shirt was white, and for a dazed moment Blaine forgot exactly why he hadn't liked Kurt when he first met him.

And then Kurt opened his mouth.

"You're still sure you want to spend all this money to open a book store here? Most people in this town wouldn't know a book if it hit them between the eyes."

Blaine fished the keys out of his pocket to open the door, focusing on trying to keep the irritation off his face. He was going to have to tolerate Kurt's attitude, and there was nothing he could do about it. He needed to keep their interaction as professional as possible and not respond to his jibes, and maybe Kurt would give up making those comments.

"The plan hasn't changed," Blaine answered politely. He made a gesture to invite Kurt in and watched him as he grabbed a tool box from the back of his truck before following him. "You said you'd start with the electrical repairs first, right?"

"Yup," Kurt muttered, putting his stuff down on the floor before going back outside to grab a ladder. "I'm gonna have to break down more of the ceiling to get at that mess, but since it's already pretty damaged…"

"Sure, if you have to," Blaine nodded. He put his satchel down on the armchair close to the window. He watched as Kurt began setting up his tools so he could start working. "Uhm. I think I'm gonna go to the coffee place down the street to grab a coffee and I'll be back soon."

"Okay," Kurt replied absently, obviously not giving a damn about what Blaine did. He positioned the ladder under a gap in the ceiling and climbed the first couple of steps, stretching to test its strength. His white t-shirt rode up a few inches, revealing the pale, firm skin below…

"Right!" Blaine said a little loudly, realizing he was staring. He grabbed his wallet, suddenly feeling very flustered. "I'll be back in a minute!"

Kurt didn't even spare a glance his way, letting Blaine go without a word.

* * *

Blaine had to wait in line to order coffee, and while he stood there staring blankly at the list of menu choices, he wondered how he was going to manage to deal with Kurt being around for however many weeks (_please, please don't let it be_ _months_) it would take him to finish everything.

He considered staying away as much as possible when Kurt was working and only occasionally showing up to check on his progress, but he would have to be around to make decisions if any problems appeared. But Blaine had been so ridiculously excited about seeing his book store rise from the ashes: he really wanted to see it become what he had always dreamed of, step by step.

Blaine guessed he didn't have another option but to try to establish a friendly – a formally distant, completely professional – relationship with the man working for him. And the best way to begin that new relationship, he thought, would be with a cup of coffee.

Because who didn't like to move past any sort of awkwardness with a nice, warm cup of coffee?

"Hi, welcome to the Lima Bean. What can I get for you?" The girl behind the counter said with a smile when he made it to the front of the line.

He had no idea what Kurt could like, so he went with something simple, which happened to also be his usual order. "Two Medium Drips, please."

Blaine paid for the coffees and then moved to the end of the counter to wait for his order to be ready. Yes, this was an excellent way to start.

* * *

Kurt stared down at the coffee Blaine was offering to him as if he had never seen one before.

"What's this?" He asked gruffly.

"Uhm. Coffee," Blaine answered, shifting on his feet uncomfortably when the other man didn't take the cup, which was currently scalding his hand. "I got you a medium drip. I didn't know what you liked, so I got you the same thing I always get…"

"Why?" Kurt still didn't accept the proffered cup and Blaine was very, very close to just throwing it into the trash can and forgetting about making a peace offering.

"I don't know? Because I thought it'd be a nice thing to do? Do I really need a reason?" Blaine frowned crossly.

Kurt muttered under his breath, rolled his eyes in what seemed to be an equally terrible mood and practically ripped the coffee out of Blaine's hand without as much as a thank you.

Blaine looked at him in wide-eyed astonishment, for a few seconds, at his unexpectedly boorish response.

Kurt peeled back the plastic top and took a long swig of his coffee. Blaine watched him drink the scalding hot drink and winced. It must have burnt Kurt's throat the whole way down…

"I have to go to the hardware store for supplies," Kurt said then.

Blaine blinked. "Okay…"

"It's just a few streets away from here, I should be back soon, if I can find what I need," Kurt informed him tersely. He drank the rest of his coffee and Blaine did not, he did _not_ watch every muscle as Kurt's throat worked to swallow it. Kurt put the now empty cup down and turned on the heels of his heavy boots.

He was gone before Blaine had processed exactly what had just happened.

* * *

At first, Blaine thought that things would get easier as days passed, and they got used to each other. He'd hoped that Kurt wouldn't be so… edgy, all the time (and that didn't even begin describing how Kurt acted around him), but he had been wrong. He had been very, very wrong.

Blaine decided he would focus on sorting the things that still remained in the back room once the electricity was back on, deciding which items he would keep and which he would donate. He would need the backroom empty soon, to store the books and the new furniture he'd started ordering.

Kurt managed to get the electricity reconnected by the second day, working late into the first evening. Blaine almost clapped his hands in excitement. It had been quite uncomfortable, pretending to look busy by working on one of his many lists. He was grateful that the hollow silence of the empty store could at least be filled with him moving stuff around, and Kurt working with those big tools he was using.

Blaine had to admit that the heavy tools made his arms look amazing in those fitting t-shirts…

Shaking his head to get rid of those thoughts, Blaine walked into the backroom. Now that he had some better light, he realized just how much stuff had been dumped in that room. It would take days for him to go through everything…

He smiled to himself, pratically in delight.

"You sure have a lot of garbage back here…"

Blaine turned to find Kurt leaning against the doorway, his eyes (they were almost green today) taking everything in, clearly unimpressed.

"Some things could be recycled. Others can be reused or repurposed," Blaine countered, trying to stay optimistic.

"That's what people are going to say when they come in here to buy books and use them to light fires next winter," Kurt snorted sarcastically. "Actually, if you open before the fourth of july, you can take advantage of all the barbeques that need to be lit up."

Blaine gritted his teeth. "Don't you have tools you need to be using?"

Kurt rolled his eyes, but went back to work. Blaine took a deep breath and held back his temper.

It was worth it, he needed to constantly remind himself of that. Getting the store ready to open was worth having to put up with Kurt Hummel.

* * *

The tension made the days feel endless. Blaine wasn't enjoying seeing his book store take shape as much as he had thought he would, and it was all Kurt's fault, with his nasty attitude and snarky comments.

Mostly, they maintained a bitter silence, both focusing on what they were doing to avoid each other as much as possible. Kurt always left for an hour at noon, presumably to grab some lunch, and Blaine stayed, enjoying having the peaceful place to himself and eating a sandwich he bought at the Lima Bean with his customary cup of coffee. Lunch was his favorite time of the day.

He had already sorted through half of the contents of the backroom. He'd found a few nice things he wanted to keep, but many were going to charity. Others, even if it pained him to agree with Kurt, were nothing but garbage. He was piling them on a corner of the room to get rid of those some other time.

Kurt had finished with everything related to the electrical system and was now working on the ceiling. Blaine resolved to stay away from him, in the backroom, minding his own business.

Until he heard a loud noise and an equally loud "_fuck!_"

Blaine rushed into the main room to find Kurt had descended from the ladder and was staring at a piece of the ceiling that had fallen down.

"What happened?" Blaine asked, surprised.

"This shit was weaker than I expected and it just plummeted to the floor…" Kurt explained and when he looked up, Blaine inhaled sharply.

"You're bleeding," he muttered, immediately approaching Kurt to staunch it. Kurt frowned and touched his face, and came away with blood-stained fingers. There was a cut just above one of his eyebrows, dripping blood down the side of his face. "Here, let me help you…"

"It's nothing," Kurt huffed. "It doesn't even hurt…"

"You're bleeding everywhere," Blaine insisted, fuiding him to the armchair, pushing him down gently so he would sit. "Maybe I should drive you to the hospital to make sure you don't need stitches…"

"Don't be so dramatic, Anderson," Kurt rolled his eyes and tried to hide a wince. "Told you, it doesn't even hurt."

"Sure it doesn't," Blaine said, with an eye-roll of his own. "Just let me take a look at it, alright?"

Kurt was obviously annoyed by the attention, but Blaine ignored him. He put a gentle hand on his forehead to tilt his head back so the light would fall on his face. He instructed Kurt to stay like that while he rummaged into his satchel to find a clean tissue and quickly dabbed at the cut to see how deep it was.

"It doesn't look very bad to me," he said after a few seconds, leaning closer to see if it was still bleeding. "It could've been a lot worse, with a piece of ceiling falling on you…"

"I jumped back just in time," Kurt answered, and Blaine was suddenly awfully aware of how close they were when Kurt's breath warmed his neck as he spoke. "I'm sure it's just a scratch."

Blaine pulled away, clearing his throat and adjusting his glasses. "Uhm. You should wash it and cover it with a band-aid or something. You don't want to have to deal with an unnecessary infection or anything…"

"Right," Kurt stood up. "Well, I have a first-aid kit in my truck. So I'll go get it."

"Yes." Blaine turned to return to the backroom. "That sounds like a good idea."

"You should get some fresh air or eat something. You look so pale," Kurt commented, as he walked towards the exit. "If you faint, I'm not staying extra hours to take you to the hospital."

Blaine forced a chuckle and then waited for his heart to go back to its normal pace.

Kurt Hummel was an asshole. An attractive one, but still an asshole, and Blaine needed to remember that.

* * *

If Blaine thought that showing concern for Kurt when he got injured during work was going to change things, he was so, so wrong.

Kurt only got more rude and obnoxious as days kept passed. Fixing the ceiling was taking a lot more time than either of them had expected, the loose plaster frustrating both of them, and Blaine was starting to think he would never get rid of the moody man he had hired.

If he had to do it again, he might not have chosen to put himself through this nightmare.

So he contemplated suggesting something that might possibly help them move forward and make things quicker.

"I was thinking…" Blaine said slowly from his place on the armchair were he was scanning through a lightning catalogue, pondering what kind of lamps he wanted to buy for the ceiling once it was completely done. "Maybe you could hire an assistant, so you could work faster, since you would be dividing the work between two people…"

Kurt turned to him so abruptly that Blaine was surprised his neck didn't crack, his eyes narrowed at him.

"You know, it would make things much easier for you. I would pay him, of course, you wouldn't have to. And I'm sure you probably have other jobs waiting…" Blaine continued, though the way Kurt was looking at him made him even more uncomfortable than usual.

"I work alone," Kurt cut in a sharp, cold voice.

"Oh," Blaine muttered, not knowing what else to say. "O-okay. I just thought I'd ask."

"If you don't like the way I work, Anderson, you can just fire me and hire someone else," Kurt walked towards him, looking more menacing the closer he got. "But don't try to tell me how to do my job."

"Never mind," Blaine tried to reassure him. "It was just a suggestion."

"Well, I don't need your suggestions, and I sure as hell don't need a stupid assistant to get in my way. You do that just fine on your own," Kurt replied and he really seemed angry.

Blaine didn't say anything. He just stared up at Kurt with his eyes as big as saucers.

"Do you have any other _suggestions_ or I can go back to doing what you're paying me to do?" Kurt said, and there was a kind of fire in his eyes that Blaine had never seen in them before.

"N-no. No more suggestions," he muttered awkwardly.

A brief silence fell over them like an icy layer of snow covering the fresh, green grass left behind by months of spring.

"Good," Kurt's tone was harsh, distant.

Blaine wondered exactly what he had done wrong and if his silly idea would end up making things even worse.

* * *

**So there it is. I hope you enjoyed. Please hit review and let me know!**

**I'll be going back to updating on weekends from now on, since my winter break is sadly over. The next three months are going to be sort of insane, but I'll do my best to keep the chapters coming as regularly as usual.**

**Thanks for reading! Have a lovely week!**

**L.-**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys,**

**I hope you're all having a great weekend! Thank you so much for your lovely comments so far! You're too kind and I'm grateful for every single one of you.**

**Thank you so much to my lovely Wutif for being the best beta ever, and to Christine for being so amazing :)**

**I own nothing.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Blaine was so engrossed by the renovation that he had neglected doing anything that didn't revolve around the bookshop. His barren fridge told him if he didn't want to starve to death, he had better take time out to go shopping. So one afternoon, after Kurt was done for the day, Blaine drove to the grocery store he usually went to near his apartment.

Being away from the book store didn't mean he was relaxing and thinking about other stuff. His mind was constantly reviewing his to-do lists and trying to find ways to help him endure yet another day of Kurt's company. Kurt had been withdrawn for a couple of days after Blaine suggested he get an assistant, but now he was reverting back to his normal snarky self, which meant the ceasefire was over and his unpleasant comments were slipping out again.

Blaine headed for a vacant parking spot when he arrived, and smoothly slid in it before someone else did. He killed the engine and grabbed his totebag from the glove compartment (ecology was important, okay?).

As got out of the car, his attention was drawn to the car parked next to his, where he instantly recognized the shiny hair and strong shoulders of the man putting his purchases in the trunk. Blaine's entire body shuddered in anticipation, as he strove to gather enough air into his lungs to manage a simple word of greeting.

"Hi!"

Josh turned around at the sound of his voice and a smile lit his face as soon as he discovered who it belonged to. "Blaine! Hi! What a surprise."

"Yeah," Blaine self-consciously scratched the back of his neck. "I didn't know you came here."

Josh shrugged. "I was driving by, I needed some groceries and it was open. That's good enough for me."

Blaine smiled in response, not really sure what else to say.

"So, how are things going? Are you still putting your book store together?" Josh asked, sounding genuinely interested, gratifying Blaine. For once, someone who wasn't his mother seemed to care about what he was attempting to do.

"Yes, I just came from there, actually," Blaine answered. "There's still a lot to do, but at least it's well on its way."

"That's great," Josh leaned against his car and his eyes fixed on Blaine. "So… does that mean you're still too busy to go out with me?"

Blaine's stomach twisted awkwardly and he bit his lip, nervously. Didn't he deserve a nice guy in his life? Why was he so scared of saying yes to Josh? One date didn't mean they would get married and have kids. One date was only the first step, if he was ever going to have what he'd always wanted. A first date with Josh would enable him to have some fun, unwind, forget about how hard the past few months had been. And maybe he could learn if Josh could be someone special for him.

If maybe he could be _the_ one and only guy for him.

Blaine took a deep breath, let his gaze fall to the ground for a moment, focusing on the dark pavement under his feet. Then, he adjusted his glasses and looked back up to Josh, saying hesitantly, "I-I'd like to take you up on that offer?"

Josh's smile grew even wider, even brighter, and Blaine was sure his heart skipped a few beats, captivated by the crinkles in the corners of his eyes.

If he was going to change his life, he was going to do it right.

* * *

By the time Blaine made it back to his car after getting his groceries, he was almost ready to start hyperventilating.

He had a date.

_Shit. Fuck_. He had a_ date_.

What the hell was he going to wear?

* * *

It wasn't that Blaine had _never_ been out on a date before. Of course he had. Maybe not as many as he would've liked, but he had gone out with a couple of guys in college, even if most of the time they didn't get to a second or third date.

It was ridiculous to feel so nervous about dating now. He wasn't a kid anymore.

But wasn't that the point? He wasn't a kid anymore and he hadn't had a boyfriend in _ages_. He didn't want to wait forever to find the perfect guy. He didn't want to be fifty before he finally got to adopt kids.

Fine, maybe he was rushing things, leaping years ahead into a happy future, with a man he hadn't even gone out with yet. Maybe Josh wasn't the guy he was supposed to end up with, but… what if he was? What if Blaine could finally stop being so hopelessly alone?

Blaine knew that if he went on like this, he would end up driving himself crazy. He _was_ going crazy. At this rate, he would end up throwing up out of sheer nerves. Probably on Josh. During their first – and last date.

He grimaced. He couldn't let that happen, so he needed to calm down.

Blaine took a deep breath. He still had a couple of days to find a way to not make a huge fool out of himself.

* * *

"You have a date?!"

Blaine grimaced as he pulled the phone away from his ear at the excited squeal coming from the other end. He closed his eyes, patiently. "Yes, Mom. A date."

"With a man, right? Not with some person you have to interview for the book store? We're talking about a _real_ date?" Heather said eagerly.

Blaine moved around the kitchen, the phone tucked under his neck, pouring coffee and checking that his toast hadn't burned at the same time. "Of course it's a real date…"

"I was just checking, dear," Heather replied sweetly. "You can be so stubbornly introverted sometimes. But I'm glad you finally decided to come out of that shell you were hiding in. This will be really good for you."

"Mom," Blaine muttered, a little embarrassed. "It's just a first date. It doesn't have to mean anything…"

"Yet," she replied firmly. "But that doesn't meant it won't be, at some point. I'm just happy you're doing something about it, Blaine, going after your happiness…"

As he spread some cream cheese on a piece of toast, Blaine couldn't help but smile. Knowing how important his happiness was to his mother sent warmth all over him.

"Now, tell me all about him. What's his name? Where did you meet him?"

Blaine smiled. "His name's Josh and he's a teacher at Dalton. He asked me out several times but I was too busy to accept at first…"

"I'm glad he persevered, then," Heather said. "When is the date?"

"Tomorrow night," Blaine answered, feeling anxiety bubbling in his stomach.

"Then the day _after_ tomorrow, you and I are going out for lunch, so you can tell me all about how well it went," she exclaimed, and she sounded so enthusiastic about it, that Blaine didn't have the heart to tell her he had to be at the book store. Maybe he would just have to give Kurt a key so he could let himself in. "There's a lovely new bistro I'm dying to try."

They decided to meet there, and Heather promised she would text Blaine the address later. She also offered to help him shop for something to wear for his date, but Blaine assured her he had already picked something out. They said their goodbyes and then it was just Blaine, his coffee and the echoing silence of his apartment.

He wondered for how much longer that silence would be such a big part of his life.

* * *

With an arched eyebrow, Kurt looked down at the silver key lying on his palm.

"What is this?"

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest. "It's a key."

"No shit. I thought it was a puppy," Kurt's cold blue eyes rose to his, eyeing him guardedly. "Why are you giving me a key?"

"I have to meet someone for lunch tomorrow, so I won't be in to open up, in the morning. You can let yourself in, and I'll come back here when I'm done," Blaine explained calmly.

Kurt slipped the key into the back pocket of his jeans. "You don't need to be here _all_ the time, you know," he said, as he turned around to rummage into his toolbox, looking for something. "I'm perfectly capable of doing my job without you supervising me."

"I'm not here to supervi-…" Blaine abruptly shut his mouth when Kurt glared over his shoulder at him incredulously. "Fine. Maybe just a little." He ran his hand through his hair, immediately stopping himself when he felt the gel on his fingers. "I've wanted to open this book store for a very long time. I want to be part of the process, even if I'm not entirely useful sometimes."

"Most of the time, I'd say," Kurt huffed under his breath, rolling his eyes.

Blaine frowned. His gaze followed Kurt, and he could feel the words coming up his throat even though he really wanted to hold them back.

"Why do you dislike me so much?"

_Damn_.

Kurt arched an eyebrow at him again. He seemed mildly amused by the question. "Excuse me?"

"You're really kind of rude," Blaine shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant and hoping he wasn't coming across as hurt.

"Well, don't take it personally. It's not that I don't like _you_," Kurt replied, as if it was obvious.

Blaine felt even more confused by his casual reaction to being called rude. "It's not?"

"Nope," Kurt said, obviously bored already. "Don't feel like you're anything special, because I don't like _anyone_, Anderson."

And with that, he turned on whatever electric tool it was that he was holding, and the sound filled the room, keeping Blaine from responding, assuming he could think of anything to say.

He wasn't sure if he would ever understand Kurt, or why he gave a damn about it either.

In just a few weeks (_please, please let it be weeks, and let it be only a few_), Kurt Hummel would be done and gone, and Blaine wouldn't have to see him again. Ever.

He really couldn't wait for the day to arrive.

* * *

Later that day, Blaine waited impatiently until Kurt finished gathering his things. It seemed like the man took forever putting all his tools away and taking them to his truck. Blaine fidgeted by the door, his satchel hanging on his shoulder, ready to hurry home to his apartment as soon as Kurt was done.

"Jesus, Anderson, are there ants in your panties?" Kurt muttered, frowning at him with one of his signature eyerolls.

"_No_," Blaine answered, before he realized it was actually ridiculous to even bother giving Kurt any sort of answer. "I just need to go, alright?"

Kurt grabbed his jacket and his bag from where he had hung them on the back of the armchair that morning and strolled annoyingly slow towards the door.

The bastard was doing it on purpose to get on Blaine's nerves.

When he saw Blaine's hazel eyes flashed with anger, he smirked. It was just too easy to mess with Blaine…

Blaine closed the door with a lot more force than necessary and then rushed towards his car without sparing another look at Kurt. He had more important things to do that night.

* * *

His reflection seemed a little pale when Blaine looked at himself in the mirror. He took a few steadying breaths, and let his eyes roam down to check his outfit instead.

He was wearing a dark purple shirt and black pants that hugged his hips and thighs quite nicely, if he could say so himself. He thought about adding a bowtie to his ensemble, but it was a very warm summer evening and he was already starting to sweat out of nerves. He decided to unbutton the first two buttons on his shirt and roll his sleeves up to his elbow carefully. He still looked neat and composed, and he would be able to breathe easier. He _really_ needed to be able to breathe tonight.

Blaine took another glance at himself. He adjusted his glasses on his nose, considering taking them off and switching to contacts for the occasion. He hated wearing his contacts, because the next day his eyes were all red, but maybe he would look better in them...

He walked into the bathroom and put them in. He could make one little sacrifice for his date.

"Okay," Blaine whispered, appraising the final result. "I could look a lot worse."

He turned the bathroom light off and walked into the living room. Josh was supposed to pick him up in ten minutes, so Blaine busied himself pretending to read a magazine that he had left on his coffee table earlier. When reading proved to be pretty much impossible, he just settled for looking at the pictures, flipping quickly through the magazine without seeing it.

The doorbell rang while Blaine was reconsidering changing his shirt. And maybe the pants, too. And the belt wasn't as shiny as his shoes; should he change those, too? Shaking all his misgivings from his head, he walked quickly to the door (he certainly didn't _sprint_, of course not) and took one last deep breath before pulling it open.

Josh was standing there, wearing jeans that made his legs look sinfully long, and a green shirt that brought out his eyes, with a light jacket on. He was smiling at Blaine in a way that made his stomach swirl. "Hi, Blaine."

"Hi," Blaine answered, a bit breathless. He was sure he must have smiled back, but he was too busy looking at the handsome man at his door to really pay much attention.

"Are you ready to go?" Josh asked, with his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Yes, just let me..." He turned to the bowl on the table next to the door and grabbed his keys and wallet. "Ready."

When they were in the car, Josh turned on the AC and soon there were goose bumps rising on Blaine's bare forearms. They chatted amicably after Josh asked him to choose a radio station, the conversation easily falling on what kind of music they liked.

_This is easy_, Blaine thought with a relieved sigh. _He's easy to talk to. It'll be alright. I have nothing to worry about._

He was a lot calmer by the time they made it to the restaurant. Josh found a spot in the parking lot and turned to Blaine after cutting off the engine.

"I hope you like Mexican food," he said, still smiling. "This is the best Mexican restaurant in all of Ohio."

"I love Mexican food," Blaine answered with a smile of his own.

The waitress guided them to a table reserved for two by the window, gave them their menus and then said she'd be back to take their orders in a few minutes.

Blaine looked around. It was a nice restaurant, tastefully decorated with photographs of Mexican plazas hanging on the walls. Soft music was playing on the background, and from what he could see on the tables around them, the food seemed appetizing and colorful.

When he turned back to Josh, he found him staring at him intently from across the table. Blaine hoped he didn't blush, as he looked back down to the menu attentively.

"I don't think I mentioned how hot you look without your glasses," Josh murmured softly.

Blaine smiled shyly. "Thanks. I don't wear my contacts often. They're not very comfortable."

"You should give your eyes a chance to shine more often," Josh winked and then started reading his menu, reminding Blaine that the waitress would come back soon.

They both ordered fajitas, and Josh ordered a bottle of wine. The conversation went to the usual date topics: movies, books (Blaine had a lot to say about this, before he realized he was monopolizing the conversation), and other hobbies. Josh was always smiling and he leaned in closer to Blaine, listening attentively. Blaine caught him staring at his lips several times. Every now and then Josh would interrupt him, in a low voice, to brush his fingers on Blaine's hand or arm, and say "I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I wasn't paying attention. I just can't stop thinking about kissing you", which made Blaine turn almost crimson, and babble incoherently into his glass of wine. He felt like a twelve year old girl.

"So tell me more about that book store of yours," Josh said as he refilled Blaine's glass. "When's the big opening?"

"Oh, I still don't know for sure," Blaine replied. "There's so much work to be done. I think it'll take another couple of weeks until I can set a date."

"Are you going to work there yourself or are you hiring someone?"

"Once it's opened?" Blaine asked, wondering for a second if he meant the renovations. When Josh nodded, he continued. "My plan is to do it myself, yes. It's what I've always wanted to do."

Josh hummed, with a bit of a faux pout. "Uhm. Pity. You'll be missed at Dalton."

Blaine shrugged dismissively. "I'm sure they can find a good librarian to replace me."

"Certainly not one as attractive as you are, though," Josh leaned across the table, making his heart thump against his ribs at the proximity of those green eyes.

"Oh... I..." Blaine bit his lip, as he struggled to find a response, but saved by the waitress when she came to collect their empty plates and offer them dessert.

"No dessert for us, thanks," Josh said decisively, before Blaine could even think if he wanted some. "Just the check."

Blaine deflated a little. Was he boring? Was his bashfulness upsetting Josh? Why did he seem so eager to leave? He tried not to show how disappointed in himself he was. At least Josh had stayed during the entire dinner. He probably had wanted to leave the moment they sat at the table.

Blaine tried to pay his half of the meal, feeling bad that Josh had to pay for a date he clearly hadn't enjoyed, but Josh wouldn't hear a word of it, and he slipped his credit card to the waitress. Blaine thanked him in a somber voice and waited patiently until they could go back to the car, so he could let the poor guy drive him home.

The drive back to Blaine's apartment was almost silent, and Blaine was grateful for the music playing on the radio, taking up the empty space between them. His hazel eyes stayed fixed out the window. He just wanted to get home and grab a book. Reading would make him forget and feel better...

Josh stopped the car when they arrived to Blaine's building. He immediately unbuckled his seatbelt and reached for the door.

"Thanks so much for dinner," he said, still avoiding looking directly at Josh.

Suddenly, there was a hand on his knee, stopping him from getting out of the car. Blaine turned to him and saw that Josh was smiling at him.

"Let me walk you to your apartment," he said in almost a whisper.

Blaine nodded dumbly.

Blaine fidgeted with his keys all the way up to his floor, trying to compose a heartfelt apology for disappointing Josh that didn't sound pitiful. When they finally made it to his door, he turned but Josh caught him off guard, sneaking an arm around his waist, and pulling him closer. Suddenly, a pair of warm lips was pressing against his.

In his shock, it took Blaine a few seconds to kiss back, but when his brain caught up with the situation, he wrapped his arms around Josh's neck and parted his lips lightly, letting Josh's slide against his softly.

Soon Josh had Blaine pressed against the door, kissing him deeply, and their bodies were touching almost completely, from head to toe. Blaine felt warmth shooting through his veins, and he made a vague attempt to remember when had been the last time a man had held him like that, kissed him like that. It felt so compelling, like Josh could make him forget his years of loneliness by moving his mouth on his.

"It might be presumptuous of me to ask, but..." Josh said between kisses, so close to Blaine that his breath warmed his cheek. "Can I come inside?"

It was hard for Blaine to think when Josh's tongue was pushing its way into his mouth. Blaine had never been the kind of guy who would take things to bed in his first date, which was probably one of the reasons why some men hadn't really bothered to come back. But too much _need_ and _want_ were swirling inside of him, and Blaine couldn't see much similarity between Josh and those other guys. He had a good feeling about them. He wasn't sure how he knew that, but Blaine was certain saying yes wouldn't be a mistake.

He stopped kissing Josh long enough to turn around and try to fit the key in the lock. Immediately, Josh started kissing the back of his neck, his hands tightening on Blaine's hips as he pulled him against his overheated body. Blaine's fingers were shaking as he did his best to get the door to open, and he might have done a little victory dance when he finally managed it, except Josh slammed the door closed and pushed him against it again, as soon as they were inside.

Blaine pulled away, trying to remember to breathe and recall his manners, as Josh kissed down his jaw and neck.

"I... w-would you like something to drink?" He offered with a gasp, his words followed by a low moan he emitted involuntarily, when Josh nibbled on that spot on his neck where he was particularly sensitive.

"Not really," Josh replied, sucking his ear lobe into his mouth. His hands wandered to Blaine's stomach, feeling the muscles there. "Why don't you show me where your bedroom is?"

Blaine inhaled sharply. Josh's touch seemed to be burning him even through his clothes. He whimpered when Josh sucked on the bit of skin that peeked through the unbuttoned part of his shirt and his hands flew to Josh's head, fingers tangling in his hair.

"Come on, Blaine," Josh groaned. "Tell me where your bedroom is..." he licked his way up to Blaine's lips again, speaking right against his skin. "Unless you want me to fuck you right here against the door..."

Blaine whimpered helplessly one more time, whatever remaining air he had in his lungs leaving him in a rush. "D-down the hallway. S-second door."

Josh didn't stop kissing him as they stumbled through the apartment, undressing each other in a hurry, knocking a lamp to the floor, until they arrived to Blaine's room.

They kicked the door closed behind them. Only the trail of discarded clothes and the moans coming from the bedroom were signs that the apartment wasn't as empty as it usually was.

* * *

**Aaaah don't kill me. I hope you liked it despite the end. I promise things will change very soon!**

**Thank you for reading. Sharing this with you is the highlight of my week.**

**See you next weekend!**

**L.-**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello everyone!**

**I hope you had a nice week. Mine was quite hectic and busy and tear-inducing, but none of that matters now that I get to share a new chapter with you.**

**Thank you so much for the reviews you've sent so far - most of you were very nice about the way last chapter ended, and I only got about three rude comments. Some of you have been reading my stories for a very long time now and know my writing style pretty well - I like building things up, I don't like rushing anything, and I like to see my characters grow. That takes some time, but I hope you'll enjoy the ride, anyway. Bear with me a little, and I'm sure you'll find it worth it in the end.**

**All my love goes out to Wutif (best beta and friend ever!) and Christine (my bucket list now has an item that says "hug Christine").**

**I own nothing.**

* * *

It couldn't have been more than fifteen or twenty minutes since he had dozed off. Blaine's body was pleasantly relaxed and boneless, practically melted into the rumpled sheets of his bed. He hummed in contentment and rolled over, searching for the warm body he knew was lying next to him.

Except, it wasn't there.

Blaine blinked his eyes open in confusion, and then realized that what had actually woken him up, was the movements of the man putting on his underwear and pants. The sound of a zipper resonated loudly in the silence of the night.

"Josh?"

Josh turned to him and even in the darkness Blaine was able to see his eyes glance at him in surprise. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," Blaine rose to his elbow, and reached to turn on the lamp. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Josh answered levelly, kneeling to search for one shoe, thinking it might have gotten kicked under the bed. "You can go back to sleep if you want."

Blaine frowned as he watched him. "Are you… are you leaving?"

"Yeah," Josh replied. He found one of the shoes, but the other was nowhere to be seen. "Fuck. Where the hell is my other shoe?"

Blaine didn't even bother looking down. "Uhm. You know, you can stay the night here. You don't have to go home. You can sleep here until the morning …"

"Yeah, I don't really do morning-afters, sorry," Josh muttered absently, standing to consider where it might have gotten flung in the heat of the moment.

Something felt wrong. Something felt very, _very_ wrong. Blaine tucked the sheets tighter around his waist, feeling too exposed. "Josh…"

"Blaine, seriously, just go back to sleep," Josh turned around, scanning the room.

He wasn't sure if what he was feeling was anger or hurt, or maybe a mix of both. Blaine tried to stop himself from letting the question slip through his lips, but he failed. "Did I do something wrong?"

Josh chuckled. "No, believe me. You did _everything_ exceedingly well."

"But, I…"

"Blaine, look…" Josh sighed, sounding a bit frustrated with him being so slow to understand. "I'm really not looking for a boyfriend, so if you thought that is what this was, I'm sorry… this was just the two of us having a good time."

"You asked me on _date_," Blaine replied, sounding upset now, his hands forming fists in the sheets. "Several times."

"I'm quite sure I never used the word _date_," Josh said thoughtfully. "I'm usually very careful about that. I wanted to go out with you. Why can't you just accept that we both had some great sex and move on?"

"Because I don't do stuff like this!" Blaine exclamed, irritated. "I don't sleep with random guys just for fun! I don't do one night stands!"

Josh found his shoe where it had slipped under the dresser. He turned to Blaine with an arched eyebrow, as he bent to put it on. "You'd better look around very carefully, Blaine, because that's _exactly_ what you just did."

And without saying another word, Josh walked out of the bedroom, out of the apartment, and out of Blaine's hopeful heart.

* * *

Blaine didn't really sleep much that night. Once he was over the shock of Josh leaving (_just like that. He just got out of bed and _left _like it meant nothing to him_), he got up, went into the bathroom and took a very long, long shower. He hadn't felt this soiled, used, and worthless in his entire life.

How had he been so stupid? How hadn't he seen the signs? Now that he thought back to their date (_it wasn't even a date_), he felt like he should've known without Josh having to spell it out in black and white for him. Josh had not been paying much attention to anything he had to say, and every flirty comment seemed to be about Blaine's looks. Josh had likely taken him out to dinner just to reimburse him for being a good fuck (_oh my god, I was just a fuck_), but hadn't bothered with any pretenses once he'd gotten what he wanted.

He scrubbed himself with soap vigorously, his skin turning pink and raw, but he still felt dirty. He tried telling himself that everyone had one night stands, that this wasn't that bad, that he should calm down… but this wasn't who he was. This wasn't what he believed in, what he thought he deserved.

He changed the sheets, sure that he could still smell Josh all over his bed. He put fresh ones on, and got into bed, but he couldn't find his way back to sleep. He couldn't find enough peace to simply close his eyes and let go. He just kept thinking over and over, that he was such an idiot, fantasizing about a future with someone who didn't care about him.

And who would want a boyfriend like him? He stuttered nervously everytime he met a cute guy, blushed like a virgin, and he looked and acted like a nerd who only experienced life through the pages of his books.

If that was all he truly was, maybe there was no point in longing for something he would never find.

* * *

Blaine seriously considered calling his mother the next morning and asking her to reschedule their lunch, but he didn't. He would feel guilty cancelling on such short notice, and he desperately needed a distraction, to erase the images of the previous night. It was stupid to mope and feel sorry for himself.

He dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom for another lengthy shower. He still felt sort of dirty, like he was wearing someone else's skin. He pressed his forehead against the cold tiles and let the water run down his back, as he closed his eyes and once again willed the sordid images from the previous night to leave him alone.

Usually Blaine carefully considered what to wear before he went somewhere. Even if he was going to work, or to the grocery store, he always liked to look neat, clean, elegant. But today, he simply pulled the doors of his closet open and donned the first pair of jeans and a red short sleeve t-shirt before leaving the apartment without giving it a second thought. It was only when he was already on his way to the restaurant that he recalled that the jeans were the ones he didn't wear anymore because they were a size too small. But if he went back to his apartment to change he would probably be late, so he just grumbled in annoyance that nothing was going right for him. When he stopped for a light, he checked his cellphone for the text message where his mother had sent him the previous afternoon, missed his turn and had to circle around again.

He arrived at the restaurant ten minutes late, continuing his run of bad luck. He found a parking spot and got out of the car, and tried unsuccessfully to shove his keys, wallet and phone into the back pocket of his too tight jeans, and groaned resentfully at how this whole day was going. He hoped his mother hadn't been waiting for too long…

Except that, when he got inside, he couldn't see her sitting at a table anywhere. He looked around fruitlessly, before he asked a waitress, but it seemed that she wasn't there yet. Blaine was taken to a table for two near the back of the restaurant and ordered a glass of water while he waited.

In other circumstances, he would've appreciated the ambiance of the place. It was big enough for a destination restaurant but still managed to look cozy and shabby-chic at the same time. There were several potted plants here and there and nice pictures hanging from the walls, and the round wooden tables looked all different from each other, as if they were unique pieces bought at an antique store. So were the chairs: the one Blaine was sitting on had dark wood and a soft light green fabric covered the seat; the one his mother was going to occupy had wood just as dark, but the armrests were hand-carved with figures of birds and flowers. It was a lovely detail, and Blaine would've spent more time studying it if he wasn't still consumed by the wretched thoughts swirling about his head.

Heather made her way into the restaurant fifteen minutes later, just as Blaine was becoming increasingly worried. His mother wasn't the kind of woman who was late, so as soon as he saw her approaching, he straightened in his seat and looked at her earnestly, knowing there was a justifiable explanation.

The first sign that something significant was wrong were her eyes. They were a little puffy and red-rimmed, and they lacked the sparkle he was so used to seeing in them lately.

"Mom?"

She took a deep, steadying breath and tried to smile, failing horribly. "I'm sorry I'm so late."

"It's okay," Blaine hurried to say, reaching for her hand, resting limply on the table, while the other seemed to be holding onto her purse with a death grip. "What's going on? What happened?"

It was unusual for Heather to fall apart, but she simply couldn't keep her emotions locked in anymore, after fighting to hide them for too long. One moment she was trying to reassure her son, and the next she was practically collapsing on the table, struggling to contain her sobs.

"Mom," Blaine muttered, frightened by her breakdown. He scooted around his chair until he was close enough to pull her into his arms. "Mom, hey, come on. Talk to me…"

But talking seemed to be something she couldn't do yet, so she simply allowed her son to hold her, as her body shook with the force of her anguish. Blaine rubbed her back, soothingly, but he was at a loss for words, just as she seemed to be.

It took a few minutes for Heather to calm down, but luckily the waitress noticed they needed some time to pull themselves back together, and left them in relative privacy. Finally, Heather lifted her head from her son's shoulder, wiping her tears carefully, though too late to salvage her make-up.

"I'm so sorry, Blaine," she whispered, voice weak. "I didn't mean to cause a scene…"

"You didn't, Mom. It's okay," Blaine's smile wasn't exactly genuine, but he did his best. "Are you ready to tell me what's going on? I'm seriously getting a little bit worried here…"

"Oh, honey," Heather closed her eyes, shaking her head. "It's nothing for you to be worried about…"

"But you were crying," Blaine reached to wipe a lonely tear still making its way down his mother's cheek. "You still _are_."

She accepted his glass of water when he offered it silently and took a long sip. "Some days are still really hard. Some days I walk around the house finding myself talking to your father, asking him if he's seen my shoes, or my keys, or if he knows what he wants to have for dinner, and then I suddenly remember that there's no one there anymore to answer my questions." She fished in her purse for a tissue, dabbing at her nose. "I knew it would be hard to get used to him not being around, but it's much lonlier than I thought…"

A few fresh tears started running down her cheeks and Blaine scooted even closer to wipe them. "Mom… it's okay to miss him. I do, too. We'll always miss him, and it'll take a long time to really get used to the idea of not having him with us anymore, but you have to know that I'm here for you…"

"I know you are, dear," Heather cupped his cheek, giving him a sad smile. "But he was the love of my life, the only man I've ever loved… I feel so lost without him…"

Blaine took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm so sorry you had to lose him like this. It isn't fair…"

Heather sighed. "Life sometimes isn't very fair, Blaine."

When she seemed controlled enough, Blaine moved back to his original spot on the far side of the table and the waitress approached them. Blaine gave her a grateful smile before she took their orders.

Blaine put his hands on the table, fingers laced, wondering how he could help her. "Have you thought about doing something to keep yourself distracted? Have you seen any of your friends since the funeral?"

"Oh, they've called me and asked me to join them at the country club so many times," Heather answered. "I just haven't been in the mood to have them remind me how sad I am."

"Maybe you should go," Blaine said, giving her hand a little squeeze. "It could be good for you to see them. You could go back to working on those events they always organize to raise funds for charity. Organizing things always made you happy…"

Heather didn't seem conviced yet, so Blaine leaned over the table to look into her eyes.

"Just try, Mom. It couldn't hurt to get out now and again. Just a few afternoons with your friends, to help you keep your mind off the sad stuff. It's not like I'm telling you to go out on a date or anything…"

"Date! Oh, Blaine, you have to tell me about your date!" She exclaimed suddenly, perking up visibly when she remembered what the initial reason for their lunch was.

Blaine shifted awkwardly on his seat, hoping he could evade the subject. "We don't have to talk about that now, Mom."

"Yes, we do," she finally managed to smile sincerely for the first time that day. "Listening to my son talking about something happy will make me feel a lot better. So come on, tell me all about it. His name was Josh, wasn't it?"

Blaine felt his face falling, unable to pretend. The humiliation and the hurt were still very much present. "I'm sorry but I don't have anything particularly happy to say about it, Mom."

Her smile disappeared, replaced by sympathy filling her eyes, and that only made Blaine feel worse. "Blaine…"

"It's okay," he tried to sound nonchalant, but he was sure he failed dismally. "He wasn't the right one. That's it. One date didn't mean I was going to marry the guy…"

"But you seemed so excited…" It was her turn to grab his hand and squeeze it now. "What happened?"

He couldn't tell her that Josh had pretty much slept with him and then dumped him, so he tried to think of something less demeaning to say. "We wanted different things, and we didn't have anything in common. He definitely wasn't looking for a serious relationship."

"Do you think _you_ are ready to jump into a serious relationship?" She asked softly, her attention fully on him. "You've been alone for so long, maybe what you need is to have some fun and see where that takes you…"

Blaine shook his head, horrified at the echo of Josh's sentiments. "I'm not made for casual. I'm not made for dating guys just for laughs." He looked at her sadly. "I want to fall in love, Mom, and I want to be loved back. I want someone to go home to, someone who won't be afraid of planning a future with me…"

"Oh, darling," she reached across the table and brushed back some of the curls falling on his forehead. He hadn't even bothered gelling down his hair that day. "You will find him. Right now, the man who's going to love you more than anything else in this world, is waiting for you. You just have to find each other."

Blaine pushed his glasses up his nose. His voice was low and miserable when he spoke again. "Who can possibly love _me_, Mom? I'm a joke."

"No, you're not," she said vehemently. "You're an attractive, intelligent, sweet man. Any guy would be lucky to have you."

Blaine blushed. "You say that because you're my mom. You love me no matter what."

"I say that because it's true," she cupped his cheek again and smiled sweetly. "Keep your heart and your eyes wide open, Blaine, and he's going to come into your life when you least expect him. You'll see."

Blaine wasn't sure he believed that, but he nodded anyway.

* * *

By the time Blaine arrived at the bookshop, his mood was dark and unstable, ready to snap at the slightest provocation. He felt as if he had been walking around with his own personal rain cloud hanging over his head since the previous night, now a million times gloomier after seeing how affected his mother still was about his father's death.

Kurt was already there, working with some really loud annoying power tool that Blaine had no idea what its purpose was. Blaine waited until he paused for a moment to make his presence known.

"Hey," he said simply, his usual smile completely absent from his lips.

"Hello," Kurt replied distractedly, not really paying any attention to him as he grabbed a pencil that he had tucked behind his ear to mark something in the wall. His white t-shirt was clinging to his back with a bit of sweat and his hair was starting to fall onto his forehead. "I was waiting for you to get here because I need to go to the hardware store. I ran out of a couple of things and I need them before I can finish this."

"Sure, whatever," Blaine dropped his satchel on the table next to the armchair.

Kurt arched an eyebrow, probably surprised that Blaine wasn't asking for further information. He usually wanted to know what Kurt was doing, why he was doing, if he could help… it was incredibly irritating. But he made no comments about his boss' lack of interest. He just put the tools down and wiped his sweaty hands on the seat of his old jeans.

Blaine didn't even watch him leave. He heard the door closing behind Kurt and sighed. For once, he didn't feel like being there at the bookshop, even if he knew that reminding himself that he was working towards fulfilling his dream, was his best option for cheering up. But he wanted to be alone (_you're already always alone_, a voice in his head said, and Blaine shushed it, frustrated), change into a pair of sweats, have some good wine and catch up on his sleep. He wanted this horrible day to end.

There was only one other thing that always managed to make him feel better no matter what. With another sigh, Blaine sat on the armchair, trying to make himself comfortable, and then rummaged through his satchel. He always carried two or three books around, so he grabbed them, eyeing them critically and trying to decide which one would be more helpful.

He ended up choosing his worn old copy of Oscar Wilde's _The Importance of Being Earnest_, curling on his side with the book, already feeling warmth spreading through him as he opened it, starting to read it from the very beginning.

It was almost immediate, the way Blaine relaxed when he lost himself in the book. Books were his happy places. They were shelters from the real world, where he could experience the deepest of sadness and the greatest of pleasures without taking any of the risks in his own life. He could love the characters without caring that they didn't love him back, he could see them fight, then grow and die knowing that if anything went wrong, he could just flip ahead a few pages to a happy ending. If something hurt, he could skip it, or he could skim over it, as fast as he could, until things were okay again. He didn't have to wait to see how his life would unfold. He just had to read some more, and all the answers would be right there, in front of his eyes.

He had just reached one of his favorite quotes in the book (_"The very essence of romance is uncertainty"_), that had made his stomach twist uncomfortably, when Kurt returned. Blaine didn't say anything to him, he simply kept reading, trying his hardest to stay immersed deep within his fictional world, where he needed to be right now.

Kurt didn't say anything, either, before going back to work, though he glanced at Blaine every now and then. Something about the atmosphere seemed disturbing. Blaine wasn't his usual self, annoying Kurt out of his mind. He was so quiet, so curled in on himself, as if he was hoping that stupid armchair would swallow him.

Blaine brushed his fingertips over the old, time-stained pages lovingly. His eyes were glued to the words in front of him. He didn't stop reading for hours. The constant noises of Kurt working in the room barely reached his ears, and he only put the book down when he realized he needed a cup of coffee or he would soon fall asleep. His agitated night had left him exhausted.

He got up and stretched, his muscles stiff after being in the same position for so long, and then bent to look for his wallet in his satchel.

"Oh, _well_. Someone'd better be fucking that ass open every night, because it would be such a waste if it wasn't…"

Blaine spun around and straightened up to look at Kurt with wide shocked eyes, unable to believe the lewd comment had come from him. But Kurt was the only other person there, and judging from his smug smile and the way his blue eyes were appraising Blaine's body, it had, indeed, originated from him.

"Excuse me?" Blaine asked, incredulously.

"Hey, I'm just saying. You shouldn't be wasting an ass like that by just sitting on it and _reading_," Kurt shrugged, as if he was talking about something as trivial as the weather and not Blaine's ass. "I can think of plenty of better ways you can put it to good use…"

Something snapped inside of Blaine. His restraint broke into a million jagged shards. It had been such a long, terrible day, and it wasn't even close to over yet. He couldn't take one more second of this anymore.

Blaine could feel his nostrils flaring, his anger making him pant as if he had just run a marathon. His fists clenched where they were hanging at his sides, book, coffee, everything absolutely forgotten as he looked at the stupid smirk in Kurt's lips.

"That is extremely inappropriate," Blaine said coldly. "Go back to work right _now_."

Kurt's eyes seemed to widen for a moment, but Blaine couldn't really be anywhere near him anymore, so he just grabbed his book, shoved it back into his satchel, and stormed out of the bookshop without looking back.

He had been right, earlier that day, when he was talking to his mother.

Everyone thought he was just a big joke.

* * *

**See? Josh is gone. Didn't I tell you that you had nothing to worry about? From now on, there will be A LOT of Kurt/Blaine interaction. Get ready!**

**Thanks for reading! I'll see you again next weekend!**

**L.-**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello!**

**I hope you're all having a lovely weekend. Thanks so much for all the reviews, the love and the support. I hope you know how much I appreciate it :)**

**Once again, I have to thank my beta, Wutif, for being the most wonderful beta in the world. And Christine, as well, for being so incredibly lovely!**

**I own nothing.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

That night, Blaine tossed and turned endlessly trying to settle down enough to sleep. Even though he was worn out from barely sleeping at all the previous night, he lay awake for hours, staring up at the ceiling. His thoughts had started speaking to him in a low, annoying whisper, but they had now become howling screams that brought on a splitting headache.

What had happened over the past two days… those things didn't happen to Blaine. Sure, he had gone on dates, mostly in college. Only two had resulted in mildly serious relationships, and neither had lasted very long.

He met the first guy when he was still a freshman in college. Blaine had spent most of his teenage life fairly isolated, without friends, depending on his books for companionship, and he was a million times shyer then than he was now. Harry had been the first boy to ever seriously look at him, to tell him he was cute. The problem was, after a few dates, they realized they had absolutely nothing in common. Their conversations were stilted, but since they were both lonely, they ignored that for a while, and filled the uncomfortable silences with make-out sessions that eventually ended up in bed.

Blaine remembered the breaking point, when they had been walking out of class on their way to the cafeteria, their hands clasped between them, enjoying the first warm days of spring after all those months of snow and cold that made the walk between one building and the other so dreadful.

Harry squeezed his hand. "So, what do you want to do tonight?"

"I don't know," Blaine shrugged. "We could go out to eat? I've always wanted to try the Mediterranean restaurant in Main Street."

"Ugh," Harry made a disgusted face. "I hate Mediterranean food. Oh! The new Grand Theft Auto comes out today! We could go pick it up and then go back to my dorm and play."

Blaine scrunched his nose. "You know I don't like playing video games."

"Oh, right," Harry deflated, visibly disappointed.

"There's an independent film festival downtown," Blaine proposed, grasping at straws, desperate to find something they might both like. "We could go to a double feature…"

"I hate independent films. They never have enough explosions and they're always going on and on about their _feelings_."

Silence settled between them, more than a bit awkward. They entered the cafeteria, got their food and found a vacant table before they spoke again.

Blaine bit his lip as he pushed his mac and cheese around. "Uhm. One of my favorite authors is having a signing today and I really wanted to go…"

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn't a book person like Blaine, at all. The more distance between him and a book, the better. "Well, you should probably go to that. I have homework to do anyway."

Blaine looked at him without saying anything for a moment, and finally nodded, a little sadly. "Right."

They broke up amicably soon after that, when Blaine realized that, besides not having anything in common, he didn't really have any feelings for Harry beyond a weird camaraderie simply because of them both being gay. Their friendship didn't really last long either, once they stopped sleeping together. They barely exchanged emails twice a year, and Christmas cards when they remembered. Blaine hadn't heard from him in a while, but he didn't care enough to bother staying in touch, either. There just wasn't anything worthwhile there.

His second relationship was while he was a junior. Blaine was immediately charmed by Nicholas, who happened to be in one of his classes. He and Blaine both had the highest marks in the class, and they never seemed to run out of things to talk about. Nicholas had a wonderful vocabulary, and everytime Blaine listened to him, he felt ecstatic, moved, exhilarated. It was one of the strangest things that had ever happened to him, and it was the first time he felt this connected to another guy. Unfortunately, just when Blaine was sure he was falling in love, he discovered something that put an abrupt end to their relationship.

It was a Sunday afternoon, and he and Nicholas were hanging out in Nicholas' apartment, watching movies on his laptop while they cuddled on the bed. It was one of Blaine's absolute favorite things to do and he smiled contentedly as he nuzzled against his boyfriend's chest, which was covered in a soft, worn hoodie.

The movie had been interrupted when Nicholas' cellphone had gone off. Blaine quickly pressed pause and handed it to him, since he was closer to the bedside table where the phone was. Blaine stayed snuggled comfortably against him, as Nicholas talked to his mother. He listened to him asking about his siblings (he was the middle child, and had two brothers and two sisters) and his father.

"Oh! You're coming to visit me?" Nicholas said, surprised. His voice sounded a bit shaky, as if he was nervous. "S-sure, sure. It'll be great to see you guys."

Blaine peered quizzically at his boyfriend wondering why he would be worried about that, but Nicholas avoided meeting his eyes.

"Y-you want to meet her?" Now he sounded completely petrified and Blaine was becoming really worried. "I guess I'll have to check with her to see if she's available. She's, uhm, busy… a lot, with homework, and projects and extra-curriculars. H-her name? I thought I'd mentioned it? No?" Nicholas glanced at Blaine, anxiously, before turning his head away to face the wall, and lowering his voice. "It's… B-Brenda. Her name is Brenda."

Blaine was sure Nick had never mentioned any Brendas so now his curiosity piqued. He watched as Nicholas wound up his conversation before hanging up. As soon as he put the cellphone down, Blaine casually asked, "so, who's Brenda?"

Nicholas blushed furiously and he made a point in not looking directly at Blaine. "No one."

"She has to be _someone_ if your parents want to meet her," Blaine replied reasonably, frowning. "Is everything okay?"

"I… Blaine…" Nicholas ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. "_You_ are Brenda."

That definitely wasn't what Blaine had been expecting. "_What?_"

"They don't know I'm gay," Nicholas said, embarrassed. They both sat up on the bed, the movie completely forgotten. "They asked if I was seeing someone and I couldn't tell them it was a boy…"

Blaine was having trouble breathing. "So… I'm your dirty little secret?"

Nicholas' face fell. "Blaine, don't…"

"Are you planning to come out to them any time soon?" Blaine interrupted, already feeling his heart breaking into pieces.

It took an eternity for Nicholas to sigh in defeat and finally answer him. "No, Blaine. I'm _never_ coming out to my parents. I can't do it."

"What do you mean, never?" Hurt tore through his chest, and Blaine tried to not break down. Everything had been fine between them not even fifteen minutes ago, and now… and now his life seemed to be falling apart.

"They would never understand," Nicholas said hopelessly. "And this can't be my life, Blaine. I can't be gay forever. People are expecting better things from me…"

Blaine had stared at him, mouth hanging open, incredulous. "You can't be _gay forever_? What are you going to do? Switch it off?"

"I'll do what I have to do, Blaine!" Nicholas exclaimed, exasperated. "You just don't understand!"

"I'm trying to! But you're not giving me a lot of options here!"

A long stressful afternoon of arguing followed after that. They yelled, Blaine cried and Nicholas apologized, but there was no way to resolve it now. Not when Blaine knew for sure Nicholas couldn't see that he was making a terrible mistake. He wasn't going to waste time being his guilty pleasure, someone his boyfriend was ashamed of his family finding about. He knew coming out was hard, that it took a lot of courage, that sometimes it meant people might react with bigotry … but he was proud of who he was, and he didn't want to hide from anyone. He hadn't hidden since he was just a kid, and he wasn't going to start now. Blaine tried to be understanding, but this wasn't negotiable. And as heartbroken as he had been, Blaine had ended it.

After that, there had been a few random dates. Not countless numbers of them, but enough. To this point, Blaine hadn't managed to find that special man, someone who would truly care for him and who he could care for. Weary of seeing his hopes shot down, Blaine had pretty much given up, until they were resurrected and shot down again when he met Josh. Maybe he just wasn't the kind of guy who attracted intelligent, out and proud guys. Maybe he only attracted the dim-witted, one-night stands and closet cases.

His sex life had definitely suffered from deprivation for the last few years. It hadn't been bad at all until after Nicholas, but then everything went downhill. Blaine probably shouldn't have been shocked by having fallen right into Josh's arms. His body had needs that he was constantly stifling and ignoring. It was frustrating. It was embarrassing.

But even though he had never had a long-lasting, meaningful relationship, Blaine had never felt like he had for these past two days. He wasn't the kind of guy who got ogled. No one ever really looked past his big, nerdy glasses and his silly bowties to see the man underneath. No one had ever treated him like he was nothing but a piece of meat, like a commodity. And that was exactly how he felt after his night with Josh, and after Kurt's completely inappropriate comment.

Kurt had been such a shock, though, blindsiding him. From the moment he had stepped into Blaine's life, Blaine had assumed immediately that the man was straight. Sure, for the first few seconds, before Kurt opened his cynical mouth to disparage everything around him, Blaine had found him so gloriously attractive that it almost hurt to look at him. But perhaps it had been easier to focus on the less attractive of Kurt, because a crush on someone who was working for him was a terrible, terrible idea. So Blaine had convinced himself that the pale-skinned man with the vibrant blue eyes was straight, because it was easier to see him as straight and therefore unavailable. If Kurt was gay, it just meant that there was yet another man crossing paths with Blaine repelled by what he saw.

Everything was so complicated. Sometimes Blaine wished he could turn his brain off.

It would've certainly made everything so much easier, if he could only turn off the mocking voices in his head.

* * *

Blaine's weekend sucked.

He had talked himself into believing that there was something so completely loathsome about him, and that his unappealing, shy personality made people think it was just fine to step all over him.

He called his mother to check on her and at least she seemed to be doing better. She had called one of her old friends, who had convinced her to go with her to a spa for the weekend. Blaine knew that was going to help her a lot, relaxing and talking to someone she had been close to for almost her whole life.

He wondered if he would ever have a friend he could count on like that or if he would ever find someone to be close to in any way.

Probably not.

He opened another bottle of beer and watched a rom-com, instead.

* * *

Another reason why Blaine's weekend sucked, was that when he decided to stop whining and go out for a walk to clear his head, he just discovered that the universe was, evidently, against him.

There was a park near his apartment that Blaine really liked. He imagined that if he ever got a dog, he would really enjoy walking him when the sun was going down, between the calm at the end of the day, and the rush of people going back home after a long day at work. But Blaine didn't have a dog, he probably wouldn't get one either, since he didn't have enough time to care for it. A cat seemed to make more sense, anyway…

It had been a hot day, but now, under the trees, Blaine could barely feel the remaining sunshine on his skin. The park was glorious in the summer: the flowerbeds looked vibrant and colorful, mothers took their kids to the playground, couples walked around holding hands and talking quietly.

Life might be ugly sometimes, but in spite of all the things he wished he had, Blaine still saw a beautiful world.

He smiled a little, the first smile gracing his lips in a few days.

And then it fell when he saw him.

The park was also a great place to go for some exercise, especially a good run. And coming straight towards Blaine at a fast pace, wearing blue shorts that revealed his muscled, stupidly attractive thighs, and a wife-beater stuck to his chest with his sweat, was Josh.

Blaine glanced around quickly, breath catching in his throat, trying to find a way to avoid talking to him…

"Blaine?"

_Shit_.

Blaine took a deep breath before facing Josh, who had stopped and was now leaning, with his hands on his knees, panting. Blaine hated himself for still finding him attractive. How could he avoid it when the sweaty panting man in front of him revived heated memories from their passionate night together?

"Hi," he said dryly.

"Hey," Josh smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"Just taking a walk," Blaine answered lightly, gesturing around them, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Josh straightened up and tilted his head to the side, looking slightly amused. "So, are you still pissed about the other night?"

Blaine clenched his teeth for a moment. "No."

"Yes, you are," Josh chuckled and then also had the audacity to pat Blaine's shoulder. "Come on, man. Don't be like that…"

Blaine rolled his shoulder until Josh's hand fell off it. "Don't be like _that_?"

"Why can't you appreciate things for what they are? A good fuck is a good fuck, you don't have to make such a big deal out of it not being anything more," Josh shrugged and Blaine felt himself growing angrier.

"We're never going to agree about that, Josh," Blaine said in a cold voice that didn't sound like his. "You know how I feel about it."

"Yeah, I do, but I still think you're overreacting," Josh smiled in what seemed to be a sympathetic way. "Loosen up a little, man. Lose the bowties and the hairgel, stop being so uptight. Live your life, and just… enjoy, like you did the other night. You had a good time, didn't you?"

Blaine looked away and forced himself to breathe deeply to calm himself, before he punched Josh in the face.

"You're a cool guy, Blaine, and you're really hot," Josh said, once again putting his hand on his shoulder. "You'd be even sexier if you relaxed."

"I don't _need_ to relax," Blaine replied, shoving Josh's hand off him a little more abruptly than he originally intended.

Josh sighed and rolled his eyes mockingly."Fine. But if you change your mind, call me. We can go out for a drink and then have a repeat of the other night." He jogged a few steps, before turning, running backwards so he could still talk to Blaine. "You live in Ohio, Blaine! You don't have a lot of options, so if you don't want to end up old and alone, you'd better change your attitude!"

Blaine watched him go, feeling as if he had just had all the air sucked out of him, before heading back home, with Josh's voice echoing his biggest fear in his head.

* * *

Monday arrived, and if not being excited about going back to the bookshop wasn't a sign of how dejected Blaine was still feeling, then he didn't know what was.

While he was driving, Blaine tried to think of what could keep him busy enough to avoid being anywhere near Kurt, as much as possible. He reminded himself to stop feeling ashamed, when Kurt was the one at fault and resolved to look more serious and intimidating. He had done nothing wrong. He also convinced himself that if Kurt made any more comments like the last one, he would fire him. He couldn't tolerate disrespect, even if he would have a hard time finding someone to replace Kurt.

There was no sign of Kurt or his truck when he arrived, and for a moment, Blaine wondered if maybe Kurt had quit. But considering what he knew about the man, Blaine suspected that Kurt wasn't embarrassed or regretted what he had said. He was simply late for work.

With a sigh, Blaine settled on the armchair and pulled his laptop out of his satchel to reply to a few emails from some publishing houses regarding books for the shop. Then maybe he could spend the rest of the day taking the stuff from the backroom that he had decided to donate to start making room for the boxes of books that he would soon start to receive.

And then he would have to find further tasks to take him out of the way for the rest of the time Kurt worked for him.

When the door opened, and he heard steps advancing into the shop, (he was twenty minutes late), Blaine didn't look up from his screen, nor did he say anything to acknowledge him. He kept his eyes glued to the email he had been reading, now without really seeing the words, and his jaw tense, reminding himself to not let Kurt be yet another guy who would walk all over him.

But when a Lima Bean cup was placed on the table next to his computer, Blaine's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He couldn't help but glance up, perplexed. Kurt was standing in front of him sheepishly, and biting his lip.

For the first time since he had met the man, Kurt looked anxious. All trace of his arrogance was gone.

"It's a Medium Drip," Kurt said quielty, guessing what that questioning look on Blaine's face meant. "I remembered your order, because you got me one on my first day…"

Blaine still didn't say anything and didn't reach for the coffee. He just looked at Kurt. Something seemed different about him. All his confidence had vanished, and Blaine wasn't sure how to deal with this tentative new Kurt.

Kurt took a deep, steadying breath and kept his eyes on a spot on the wall behind Blaine, as if he couldn't look at him and say what he wanted at the same time. "Look, I'm really sorry. I'm terribly sorry for saying what I said the other day. It was completely out of line and it will never happen again."

It was like seeing a building fall in front of his own eyes. It was fascinating and sort of sad, at the same time. It seemed to be taking all of Kurt's strength to talk to him right now.

"I have no idea why I even said it," Kurt continued, his voice a lot softer than it normally was. "I don't usually... I just want to get my job done, without any hassles. I promise I won't make another comment like that one. I'm sorry if my sexuality makes you uncomfortable and I hope you give me another chance. I know I'm good at what I do, even if I can't seem to keep my big mouth shut half the time, but..." He stopped, swallowed. It looked like it was hard for him to keep talking. "I'll completely understand if you don't want me here anymore."

Blaine blinked in astonishment as he watched him. Kurt seemed almost… scared? Was it possible for someone as confident as Kurt to be scared? And he _was_ gay, after all. Blaine didn't know how to process that information.

"I appreciate your apology," Blaine muttered calmly. "And I would very much appreciate it if you kept comments like that to yourself from now on…"

"Wait," Kurt's eyes went a little wide. "So… you're _not_ going to fire me?"

Blaine shrugged. "You said it wouldn't happen again, so why would I fire you?"

Kurt seemed extremely shocked. "B-because I'm gay," he answered, as if that was an acceptable excuse.

Blaine frowned. "I can't fire you just because you're gay."

Kurt let out a dismissive snort. "Right. You'd be surprised of how often that happens…" Blaine tilted his head to the side curiously, maybe even concerned. "I mean…"

"It would be hypocritical of me to fire you for your sexuality," Blaine said. When Kurt simply stared at him in confusion, Blaine added: "I'm gay, too."

Kurt's mouth opened in a silent O, clearly not expecting that.

"Just…" Blaine leaned forward on his seat, looking right into Kurt's blue (very, oh so very blue) eyes. "Let's keep this relationship professional, okay? You can be whoever you want to be here, as long as you're respectful."

Kurt nodded slowly. "Thank you."

"It's fine." Blaine's attention went back to his computer.

Kurt pushed the coffee towards him. "Drink it before it goes cold." He cleared his throat, looking around as if he needed to remember what he was supposed to do. "I'll… get started then."

He turned around and walked out to his truck to grab his tools. Blaine reached for the coffee and took a sip.

This really wasn't the way he had expected his Monday morning to go.

* * *

**I know most of you didn't like that this story centered so much on Blaine and not enough on Kurt and/or Klaine. I promise it'll change, and this last scene is only the beginning of that. There was a lot to develope about Blaine in this story, and it wasn't something I could do in one or two chapters. You'll know why I've been so detailed as you continue reading :) I hope it won't disappoint!**

**See you next weekend. Thanks for reading!**

**L.-**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'M ALIVE.**

**Oh my god. It's been two very hard weeks. As some of you guys know, my computer decided it was the perfect time to stop working, so I had to get it fixed. I've gotten it back just a few hours ago and it's such a relief to know I haven't lost any files and that everything should be fine now. I'm really sorry for disappearing like I did. I posted PSAs on Tumblr and Twitter, hoping everyone who follows this story would know what was going on. Thanks for the lovely messages you've sent. I really needed the courage!**

**Thanks to my beta, Wutif, Christine and Jen, who have kept me sane through these computer-less weeks. They are amazing.**

**Enjoy! I own nothing!**

* * *

Things felt a little easier between them now. They didn't really jump into a friendship, but at least the snarky, rude comments from Kurt stopped altogether, and Blaine didn't feel so uncomfortable as they worked around each other, expecting Kurt to strike back if he made the slightest wrong move.

Still, that first day, it was a little awkward. They were feeling out how their new truce would work. Kurt had for once acted like a human being and now that Blaine had given him the space to be himself, instead of kicking him out the way Kurt had expected, everything still felt too fragile. Kurt was clearly on edge, thinking carefully before he opened his mouth to talk, and sometimes he wouldn't even look at Blaine when he spoke.

His behavior was such a change from the man Blaine was used to seeing. He was used to Kurt being carelessly cruel with his words, to that smirk that he was convinced had taken up permanent residence on the man's lips, to the glares, and the snorts of contempt. This felt so different, and he wasn't sure how to handle him just yet.

He certainly wasn't expecting to lighten their initial awkwardness with laughter.

The morning was long gone, and they both had kept busy all day, involved in their own projects. Blaine was back on his computer, searching for the phone number of one of the organizations to donate the stuff in the backroom, when Kurt approached him warily.

"Uhm," Kurt said, and it was obvious he was still nervous from what had happened earlier. "I'm gonna go take my lunch break now, if that's okay with you, Mr. Anderson…"

Blaine's head swiveled up to look at him, and his eyes widened a little. He tried. He really, really tried, but when he just couldn't hold it anymore, he barked out a laugh.

Kurt tried to act nonchalant about his reaction. He crossed his arms over his chest and quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

Blaine covered his mouth with his hand and forced himself to calm down. Finally, he looked back at Kurt, biting his lip. "Kurt… I said we should keep things professional, but let's not be ridiculous, okay?"

"I… what do you mean?" Kurt shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably.

"Calling me Mr. Anderson? Isn't that just a little too much?" Blaine asked, smiling.

"Well…" Kurt shrugged. He still seemed to be trying to figure out what Blaine wanted from him.

"We are probably the same age. It's just weird to be so formal," Blaine scrunched his nose. "You can call me Blaine. That'll be enough."

"Fine," Kurt sighed. "Can I go take my lunch break now, Blaine?"

Blaine smiled at him once again, and nodded. "Yes, Kurt. Go ahead."

Kurt turned around and walked out of the bookshop. His shoulders were hunched, as if he was carrying the weight of the world on them. Blaine frowned as he watched him go, and a million questions buzzed in his head.

* * *

"Have you always lived in Ohio?"

Kurt looked up at him in surprise from where he was kneeling next to his toolbox.

It was the first time either of them tried to start a conversation. A real conversation. For the past few days they had stuck to trivial topics (_"Looks like it's going to rain soon, isn't it?" "The Lima Bean is great, but there's a coffee shop in Westerville that has better cinnamon rolls"_). They were safe topics to navigate while they were still very much unsure around each other.

But, Blaine had to admit, he was curious. He wanted to know more about Kurt. He'd had a lot of time to think since Monday (since no one was waiting at home for him, or anyone but his mother ever called him to chat) and he had reached a conclusion: Kurt's previous rude attitude (he was almost waiting for it to make a comeback, wondering if at some point Kurt would explode and all traces of kindness would disappear) probably had a lot to do with the fact that Kurt was a very bitter man. Blaine didn't mean it as an insult, but simply as an observation, a fact. There was something bitterly resentful about Kurt, about the way he got through a day, about the way his smiles weren't even real smiles at all. There was something bitter in the way he seemed uncomfortable every time Blaine showed him any kindness. It was almost as if he expected to be yelled at, insulted, and treated like crap all the time.

So Blaine thought he would start there, to find out what he wanted to know, a simple enough question to begin with.

Apparently not, judging by the way Kurt frowned, with his blue eyes shifting to stare out of the window pensively.

"Yes. Well, I did live in New York for a few months, but…" He answered softly, almost lost in thought. Then he shook his head. "But yeah. I was born and raised here. Probably gonna die here in this hellhole, too."

It was Blaine's turn to frown. If everything Kurt had said and done until now had seemed bitter to him, that last sentence had to be the most bitter of them all. But before he had time to address that, Kurt sighed.

"What about you?"

It was obvious he only asked the question to divert attention from him, and that merely piqued Blaine's curiosity even more. Still, he didn't want to make Kurt uncomfortable, so he decided to let it go.

"Me, too," Blaine replied. "I've actually never spent much time in Lima before. I've mostly lived around Westerville."

"I've only been to Westerville once," Kurt said, as he grabbed the measuring tape, and used it to measure a piece of trim he was going to cut. "I considered transferring to Dalton Academy, the…"

"Really?" Blaine interrupted, as his eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's where I went to school! And I work there now!"

"You do?" Kurt seemed surprised to learn they had a common link. "Are you a teacher?"

"No, I'm the librarian there," Blaine answered diffidently.

Kurt snorted softly. "Of course you are."

There was nothing insulting in Kurt's voice. It actually sounded more like friendly teasing, and Blaine liked the way it felt. He smiled and rolled his eyes. "It's a good job and Dalton is a great place to work." He watched Kurt as rechecked the measurement he'd made. "Did you ever end up doing it?"

"Did I… what?" Kurt asked, distracted, as he reached for the pencil he kept behind his ear and made a little mark on the wall.

"Transfer," Blaine reminded him. "To Dalton."

"Oh," Kurt frowned, his eyes still glued to the wall. Blaine studied him carefully, waiting for a reaction. "No. My family couldn't afford the tuition."

"Why did you want to leave your school?"

"It was populated entirely with idiots," Kurt answered simply.

"Oh right," Blaine muttered, a little wide-eyed that Kurt had been so bluntly honest. "Well, it's a pity, really. I'm sure we would have become friends if we had met in high school…"

Kurt turned to glance at him, confused. "What makes you say that?"

Blaine wasn't sure why he had said that, actually. Why would he and Kurt ever have become friends? Blaine hadn't had any real friends, so what would have made Kurt the exception? It was just a stupid assumption…

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I just have the feeling it would've happened."

Kurt hummed in acknowledgment but said nothing more about it. After a few moments of silence, both having come back to their respective activities, Kurt spoke up again. "Why did you stay in Ohio instead of going somewhere else?"

It was a little weird that it was Kurt trying to keep the conversation alive, but it sent a thrill down Blaine's spine for some reason. "I'm not really sure. I guess I didn't have anywhere else I wanted to go."

"There's always somewhere else to go," Kurt murmured, quietly.

Blaine tilted his head to the side. "Then why did you come back here?"

He knew it was the wrong question to ask when the muscles in Kurt's back, covered in a tight white shirt, tensed visibly. Blaine held his breath, completely convinced that this would be the moment where everything would go to hell, where Kurt would snap at him, and go back to being the guy he'd been since that first day.

Instead, silence spread between them, suffocating. It felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room, but Blaine didn't dare try to breathe normally, scared he would waste the last bit of oxygen left.

When a few minutes passed without Kurt saying anything at all, Blaine thought he was just going to ignore him. Blaine bit his lip, wishing he had kept his mouth shut. Everything had been going so well…

"Because I had to," Kurt finally answered, in barely a whisper.

Blaine didn't know why, but the way Kurt said those words made his heart ache.

* * *

After that, their conversations stayed on trivial topics for a few days. Blaine was afraid of asking the wrong question again, and Kurt clearly had no interest in telling him more, or in knowing more about Blaine. So they simply stayed on safe ground, commenting on something they had seen on the news the previous night, or going over details for the plans Blaine had for the bookshop.

It was a Wednesday, and Blaine was showing Kurt some samples of paint he had gotten, asking his opinion of the colors. Kurt studied them carefully.

"I like this one," he said, pointing to a deep red paint. "It's a really good brand of paint and the color will look good with the wooden floors once we take the carpet off."

"I would really like to paint the kids section in a different color, though," Blaine muttered thoughtfully. "Maybe a dark blue with stars? So it would look like a night sky?"

Kurt nodded. "That's a good idea. Kids like that crap. You can hang some planet models from the ceiling, too…"

"Oh, that would look amazing!" Blaine almost clapped his hands in his enthusiasm.

Kurt rolled his eyes with a chuckle, and monumentally failed to look annoyed. "Calm down, Blaine. It's for the kids, not for you…"

Blaine immediately reached for his computer to log onto eBay to see if he could find some models of planets there, as Kurt walked away to return to his own work. But, within a few steps, he stopped and turned to look at him again, curiosity clear in his eyes – eyes that today looked green instead of blue, but just as stunning as when Blaine had seen him for the first time.

"Why a bookshop?"

Blaine glanced up from the screen, where he was waiting for the computer to start. His confusion must have shown in his face. "What do you mean?"

Kurt shrugged, as if he didn't really care. "You know, you said you really liked your job at Dalton. You're already a librarian, you already spend every day surrounded by books. Why not something else? Why a bookshop?"

Blaine realized this was the first real inquisitive question Kurt had ever asked, the first time he seemed to genuinely want to know something about him, something that wasn't a response to a conversation started by him.

"Well…" Blaine wanted to give him an honest answer. He didn't just want to say that he liked books, like he had told most people who had asked why he was doing this. "It was my dream when I was a little boy, but then I guess that I sort of forgot about it until very recently. You know how life sort of gets in the way?" He made a gesture to convey it didn't matter, but it did. No one should have to forget about their dreams because you have other things to worry about while you're growing up. Like bullies and lack of friends. "I decided to become a librarian because it was pretty close, but without the risk of starting your own business. I just always have wanted to be surrounded by books, because there's something so comforting about being surrounded by so many stories, so many possible happy endings, so many stories sadder than yours…"

There was something in Kurt's eyes, a different light, something that hadn't been there before. Blaine couldn't tell what it was, but he didn't want it to go out.

"I thought about it every now and then, but first I was in college and I couldn't afford to open my own business, and then I got the job at Dalton, and it seemed unattainable," Blaine continued. "And then, a couple of months ago…" he could feel his throat constricting before he even tried to say the words. How could it still affect him so much? "A couple of months ago, my Dad died…"

Kurt moved forward abruptly in a knee-jerk reaction, just a few inches, but Blaine caught it anyway. He stopped dead in his tracks, wrapping his arms around himself, and for a moment, for a crazy moment, Blaine wondered if Kurt had almost rushed to him to pull him into a hug.

"Blaine, I …" Kurt muttered, a little breathlessly. His voice was softer, higher in pitch than he had ever heard it before. "That's terrible…"

Blaine's lips curled up slightly, noticing that Kurt didn't say he was sorry for Blaine's loss. He had to be the first person who hadn't since his father's death. It was kind of refreshing. "It was. It is, still, sometimes, especially for my Mom… but, you know, life goes on, I guess?" After a few seconds, Kurt gave him the briefest of nods, as if inviting him to continue. "The thing is… he left me some money, and I thought this was the perfect way to spend it. I mean… he died very suddenly, and it made me think, what am I waiting for?" He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe his own words. He looked down at his hands, tangled together in his lap. "I've played it safe my whole life, and it just didn't make sense anymore. Maybe this isn't a huge risk; maybe this isn't the biggest change I could make, but… It's the only dream I've ever known and I have to follow it, wherever it takes me…" He paused. The perfectly suited quote popped into his head, so he recited it: "_I think that one of these days you're going to have to find out where you want to go. And then –…_"

"…_you've got to start going there_."

Blaine looked up, shocked, as Kurt finished the quote for him. Something tugged loose inside of Blaine's chest, then it twirled, jumped, twitched, spasmed. He seemed to have lost the ability to both breathe and talk at the same time. "You…"

"That was one of my favorite quotes when I was in high school," Kurt explained softly. "I think I even wrote it on construction paper and hung it in my locker."

"You liked _The Catcher in the Rye _too?" Blaine asked, curiously. He had never in his life found someone who could quote that book by heart like he could.

"Of course, it's a classic," Kurt replied, as if it wasn't a big deal, but the way Blaine was staring at him must have affected him somehow, because a slight blush appeared in his face. "I think I was the only one in my English class who actually enjoyed the book. I really loved that line that says that all morons hate it when you call them a moron, because I was constantly surrounded by them and, let me tell you, they _really_ didn't like it when I pointed it out."

Blaine smiled. He couldn't really do anything else. He smiled, with all his heart, as he stared at this man who seemed to be full of surprises.

Kurt bit his lip, clearly a little bit surprised that he had opened up like that, and broke the eye contact, before shrugging once again. "So… good for you. That you decided to finally do this," he turned to get back to work. "But you know, for future reference, I'm not going to ask you about anything else, because that was one hell of a long answer."

Blaine couldn't stop himself from laughing wholeheartedly, because there was a hint of a smile on Kurt's lips, and because, for the first time in a very, very long time, he felt like he actually had a reason to.

* * *

Blaine had loathed Friday nights since he'd been in high school. People around him were always making plans to meet with friends, go to parties, have fun, while Blaine Anderson, with his thick-rimmed glasses and his patterned bowties, always stayed at home, with a pile of books next to his bed, reading until three in the morning and pretending the tears blotting the pages were because of what he was reading and not because of how lonely he was.

Now, an adult, he still felt particularly lonely on Friday nights. He hated driving home and seeing other people going the opposite way, to have dinner at restaurants, to go out on dates, while waiting for him at home was still that pile of books, with the addition of a bottle of beer and maybe some leftover dinner.

He felt pathetic, but he had never known how to change that.

That was probably why, reluctant to go to his empty apartment, he stayed at the bookshop. Once Kurt was done for the day, Blaine went to the Lima Bean for a Medium Drip and a blueberry muffin, and then came back, locked the door behind him and went to the backroom to start sorting through some of the boxes of books that had already arrived from several publishing houses, deciding to group them by genre so it would be easier to stock them once he installed the shelves. He sat on the floor, opening one box after the other, sipping his coffee and taking bites from the muffin, as he examined every single book with absorbed interest.

He usually preferred old books (they came with two stories: the one inside the pages, and the one that had to do with the history of the book itself), but there was also something wonderful about new books, too: the way they smelled, the way the covers shone in the light, how exciting it was to know that no one had yet discovered the adventures waiting inside, and wondering who would get to do it, and how it would affect them…

Blaine wondered if anyone else ever thought about books the same way he did.

He didn't stay as long as he would have liked to – he did have to drive all the way back home to Westerville, so after a couple of the boxes were sorted, he grabbed his empty cup, his satchel, his computer, and his keys, and made his way out of the book store.

Blaine was soon very grateful that he had decided to leave while it was still relatively early, because after driving a short way, he discovered his car was making strange noises. He frowned and listened intently, but he knew nothing about cars and had no idea what exactly was wrong.

As if it had been predestined, Blaine took a turn onto a street he had never been to before, to avoid traffic in case there was something really wrong with the car – and the first thing he saw was an auto repair shop.

It was late, so in case it was about to close, Blaine hurried to park in the lot. Two employees walked out as he pulled in, making their way home. Blaine growled anxiously. He hoped he wouldn't be stuck in Lima for the night. He really didn't want to make his mother drive all the way here to pick him up, and he obviously had no one else to call.

He got out of the car. The shop seemed empty, but he knew someone had to still be there because the lights were still on. "Hello?" He called tentatively, walking towards the counter.

"Just a minute, please!" A voice said from behind the door of what Blaine could only assume was an office. Just a few seconds later, a tall man in a blue coverall liberally covered in grease and wearing a baseball cap with the Buckeyes logo in it appeared behind the counter. "Hi, how can I help you?"

Blaine smiled politely. "Hi. I'm so sorry for coming at such a late hour, but I was driving back home and my car started making a really weird noise and I thought it'd be better to have it checked…"

"What kind of noise was it making?" The man asked kindly, as he followed Blaine back to his car.

Blaine did his best to explain how it had sounded, hoping he wasn't looking like an idiot in front of this stranger, who patted his back in a friendly manner.

"I'll take care of it, buddy, don't worry."

"Oh, thank you. I really appreciate it," Blaine breathed in relief.

"No problem. It's what I do."

For a few minutes, Blaine watched the man as he checked over the car, looking for the source of the noise Blaine had described. Blaine stayed at one side, trying not to get in the way. He did his best to answer all the questions the man had about the last time he had the car checked, and when he had changed the oil, and a million other things.

Just as the mechanic identified the problem, someone walked into the shop.

"Dad! Are you working late again? Carole has dinner ready and we're all waiting for you back at the…"

Blaine's shocked expression mirrored Kurt's as he abruptly stopped talking when he realized who his – apparently father's – late staying customer was.

"I know, I know. It'll only take me ten more minutes to finish here, I promise," Kurt's dad answered. "You can tell Carole I'll be there soon, Kurt."

"Kurt?" Blaine said, finally regaining the ability to speak.

It wasn't that shocking to find Kurt at an autoshop in Lima – after all, he lived there, and there was no reason why his father couldn't be a mechanic. That was all perfectly normal. What had actually shocked Blaine right to his core, was how different Kurt looked.

The usual worn jeans and tight white or black short sleeved V-neck had disappeared (so had the toolbelt, Blaine noted absurdly). There was no sign of the black combat boots either, and even Kurt's hair looked different, impeccably styled instead of carelessly falling to frame his face. His clothes were simply mesmerizing, so perfectly combined that the outfit had to have been meticulously planned. The black pants Kurt was wearing were so tight that they could've been painted on, matched with a white button down with studs along the collar, and a snuggly fitted grey vest. He was wearing black ankle boots and a brooch on the left side of his vest, a pair of scissors with a little chain in it.

Kurt shifted on his feet, uncomfortable at Blaine's close scrutiny. "W-what are you doing here, Blaine?"

"You two know each other?" The older man asked curiously, as he returned to Blaine's car.

"Y-yeah, I'm working for him," Kurt answered, and he was avoiding Blaine's eyes. "Uhm. Dad, this is Blaine Anderson. Blaine, this is my father, Burt Hummel."

Blaine was able to shake himself out of his daze long enough to remember his manners, offering his hand to Burt. "Very nice to officially meet you, sir."

"Same here, buddy," Burt said. "This will take just a few minutes. You can sit there, if you want," he added, pointing towards some plastic chairs lined against a wall to form sort of a waiting area.

Blaine nodded and walked in that direction. Kurt sighed heavily and followed.

"Did you come track me down here on purpose?" Kurt asked, staring down at Blaine once he had sat down.

Blaine's eyes widened in confusion. "No? My car was acting up and I was driving by, so I decided to stop and have it checked." He blinked, fixing Kurt with a worried glance. "Is everything okay?"

"You're not supposed to be here," Kurt replied softly, blue eyes falling down to stare at his boots. "T-this is… and my dad is… and I look like…"

Blaine could tell this was difficult for Kurt, even if he didn't understand why, so he smiled encouragingly. "Well, you look really good, if that helps at all. Your shirt is great. Is it designer?"

"McQueen," Kurt breathed absently. He ran a hand over his face, frustrated. "Look, Blaine, I…" He bit his lip, at a loss for words. "I don't do this."

"Do what?" Blaine was even more confused.

"This," Kurt gestured at himself. Blaine could tell he was beginning to get irritated. "Allow people to see me like this, dressed like this."

"Why not?" Blaine tilted his head to the side appraisingly. "You look fantastic."

Kurt's breath seemed to catch in his throat for the briefest of moments, but he shook his head. "Because I can't. It's complicated. And I… I-I'm not even sure why I'm telling you this."

"Hey, come on," Blaine stood up when Kurt turned to leave, having clearly decided to just abandon him there at the autoshop. "I told you, you can be whoever you want…"

"That's just in your stupid book store!" Kurt exclaimed, a little louder than he intended, if the way he flinched was any indication. He closed his eyes, then looked back to see if his dad was watching them. "I can be whoever I want in your bookshop, and not completely even then. And at my house, and my parents' house. But that's it. Because the rest of the world doesn't want to see _me_. The real me. They know who I am, they know _what_ I am, but they don't want to see me showing it…"

Blaine reached instinctively for Kurt's wrist, closing his fingers around it. "Kurt… are you saying that you…"

"I do what I have to do to survive in the outside world, but…" Kurt took a deep quivering breath, and for a moment Blaine was convinced he was about to cry. "But when I'm in my own world, I just want to be myself. And I can't have you walking into it like this. I can't let you or anyone else past the boundaries I set a long time ago…"

"I'm sorry," Blaine murmured softly. "I didn't know, Kurt. I didn't know this was your dad's shop. I only stopped here because I wasn't sure the car would make it home safely. I… I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable in any way…"

Kurt pulled his arm free from Blaine's grip. "I know. I just… I just need to make sure that… that when I go back to work on Monday, you won't mention this." He looked right into Blaine's eyes, almost challenging him. "Can you do that for me? Pretend you didn't see me here today?"

Blaine wanted to know why. He really wanted to know why Kurt was asking him to forget that when he was himself, Kurt was absolutely, breathtakingly, overwhelmingly beautiful. He already was unfairly attractive on a daily basis, but here, now? Like this? Kurt's beauty could almost make Blaine's heart stop.

But he couldn't say no. If this was what Kurt wanted, Blaine would do it.

And in that very second, the strangest thought crossed Blaine's mind. He suspected that if Kurt asked, there was nothing he wouldn't do…

"Of course, if that's what you want," he agreed softly. He wanted to reach for his hand again, but he didn't.

Kurt nodded, his eyes falling. "Thank you," he said, in just a whisper. He took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder. "Dad, I'll see you back at the house. You have five minutes before Carole comes here to get you herself!"

"Yeah, yeah, kiddo, I know," Burt exclaimed from under the hood where he was still working on Blaine's car.

Kurt's gaze flashed back to Blaine for a moment. "I'll see you on Monday."

Blaine parted his lips to reply, but Kurt had spun on his heels and dashed out of the shop already. He found himself staring after him, his fingers tingling where they had been pressed against the skin of Kurt's wrist.

"So you're Kurt's new boss."

Blaine startled, not expecting Burt's voice to be so close. The man was standing right next to him. "I… yeah."

Burt continued, gruffly. "He tells me you're the first guy he's ever worked for who treats him like a human being."

Blaine turned to Burt, a little surprised. "Really?"

With a short nod, Burt put his hand on Blaine's shoulder. "He's had a rough go, for a very long time now. I think he's forgotten people can actually be nice. Thank you for reminding him of that."

Blaine was left open mouthed in surprise. He stared at this man, who looked so tough on the outside, but Blaine could already tell he had a heart of gold. He was visibly relieved that his son was catching a break from whatever it was that had been making Kurt's life so rough. Blaine tried to find the right words to say, but he couldn't find any.

For someone who read so much, who had always found comfort in words, Blaine seemed to find himself speechless a lot when he was around Kurt, or talking about him.

Burt cleared his throat, his hand falling off Blaine's shoulder. "Your car just needed some brake fluid. You were very wise to stop and have it checked. It could've been dangerous to keep driving it like that."

"I'm glad I did, then," Blaine reached for his wallet. "So how much is it?"

Burt shook his head. "Nothing, bud."

"What? Mr. Hummel, I can't accept – …"

"Sure you can," Burt insisted, gently pushing away the bills Blaine was trying to hand to him. "You just keep being decent to my son, and that'll be enough payment for me."

"But…"

"Blaine, I mean it."

Blaine knew it was a lost cause so, reluctantly, he put his wallet back in his pocket. "Thank you so much."

"Don't mention it," Burt handed Blaine his keys back, and walked behind the counter to turn off the lights. "Have a nice weekend, buddy."

Blaine offered him a small smile. "You too, Mr. Hummel."

By the time Blaine finally made it back to his apartment, his head was so full of confusing thoughts swirling around that they pretty much made up for the lack of company.

* * *

**I hope you liked it! Please review and let me know what you thought of this chapter!**

**I'll see you again very soon.**

**HAPPY GLEE DAY EVERYBODY!**

**L.-**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hey everyone!**

**I hope you all had a wonderful week. Mine was busy, to say the least, and it still is. I have the first term test on Monday so I'm studying like crazy and trying to balance it with work. I hope it won't mess up my updating schedule, but just in case something happens, you can always check my Tumblr or Twitter for news (links are in my profile!).**

**Anyone else still on a high thanks to Kurt and Blaine being engaged? I'm sure I'm not the only one!**

**Thank you so much for all the amazing reviews for chapter 7! I think you'll like this one too :)**

**Warm hugs for Wutif and Christine.**

**I own nothing, as usual. Enjoy!**

* * *

It took every bit of willpower Blaine had not to drive back to Mr. Hummel's tire shop that weekend.

Kurt was a mystery, full of questions without any answers. Blaine couldn't understand why he suddenly felt so drawn to someone he initially could barely stand. And now… now he was inventing new tasks for Kurt to do, just to keep him around a little longer.

He _needed_ to know. He needed to find out why Kurt behaved the way he did, what had scared him enough to try to hide, why his eyes were so full of sadness all the time. Such beautiful eyes shouldn't ever look so sad…

And yet, it was none of his business. He had promised Kurt he wouldn't go back to his father's garage, or mention that they had met there. He had promised, and Blaine didn't believe in breaking promises.

Although that didn't stop him from constantly thinking about Kurt, as if he was some riddle he needed to solve.

* * *

In the end, Blaine didn't have to worry about breaking his promise and doing exactly what he had pledged Kurt he wouldn't do, because it was Kurt who brought it up first.

When Blaine got out of his car on Monday morning, Kurt was already at the book store, leaning next to the door, with his sunglasses in place, looking at the neighborhood with indifference.

"Good morning, Kurt," he said with a gentle smile, as he pulled the keys out of his pocket to open the door.

"Hey," Kurt replied casually, as he grabbed his toolbox and bag from his feet to follow Blaine inside.

Blaine dropped his satchel on the armchair and instantly started rummaging for his wallet. "I really need a coffee. Do you want me to get you anything? I'll make a quick Lima Bean run…"

Kurt was still settling his stuff on the other side of the room and turned to look at Blaine a little awkwardly. "I… actually…" he sighed. "So… I don't know what the hell happened on Friday after I left, or what you and my father discussed, but…"

Blaine's eyes went wide in surprise. "I thought you said you didn't want to talk about it."

"And I really don't," Kurt continued, running a hand through his hair. "But this morning, when I woke up, my stepmother stopped by my house on her way to work and gave me a box of her famous freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and told me they were for _you_."

Blaine could only blink. "What?"

Kurt fished a plastic container out of his bag and practically shoved it into Blaine's hands. "Here."

"But… why?" Blaine asked, mystified, as he opened the container to peek inside.

"I don't know," Kurt shrugged, and he looked truly uncomfortable. "And I don't want to know either. Whatever you and my Dad talked about… just don't tell me."

Blaine thought about what Burt had said about him being the first guy Kurt had ever worked for who treated him decently, and nodded. It had to be something about that. "Well, thank you, Kurt. And please let your stepmother know…"

"Yeah, yeah," Kurt waved him off. "Just go get your coffee so I can pretend this conversation never happened."

Blaine rolled his eyes, put the cookies down on the table, and walked out of the shop to the Lima Bean. He returned with two cups of coffee and persuaded Kurt to grab a cookie.

They didn't get much done that morning.

* * *

"Tell me about your dad."

Blaine had been kneeling on the floor, organizing the books that still needed to be sorted out into different categories, but he looked up at that, eyebrows all the way up to his hairline, a cook book in one hand and _Huckleberry Finn_ in the other.

"My dad?" He asked, a little confused.

"Yeah," Kurt muttered, leaning against the wall and taking a sip of water from a bottle, as he watched Blaine. "You mentioned him in passing a few times, and I feel like there's a story there that you need to tell…"

Blaine frowned. "And you want to hear it?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and stepped away from the wall to put his water bottle back in his bag. "Fine. Sorry. Professionalism. I forgot for a second."

"No, no," Blaine hurried to say, gently putting the books down. "It's not that. I just didn't think you would care…"

"Right. You probably talk about this stuff with your friends," Kurt shrugged, as he rummaged through his toolbox until he found what he was looking for.

Blaine's eyes fell to fix on the floor. He heard himself say in the quietest of voices, before he could stop the words from coming out of his mouth: "I don't actually have any friends."

The fact that Kurt seemed so completely shocked almost made Blaine miss the way his blue eyes suddenly filled with something else, some kind of ache, some kind of longing, of understanding? "Seriously? _You_ don't have any friends? You have to be one of the most disgustingly likeable guys I've ever met in my life. How is that even possible?"

Blaine could feel the blush creeping up his face, and avoided Kurt's gaze. "I'm just… you know, kind of shy and awkward."

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Kurt said with an amused smirk that made Blaine chuckle.

"Besides, it's not like you like me, either," Blaine added, blushing harder. What Kurt had told him weeks ago still haunted his thoughts, but he didn't want Kurt to know. "You told me that yourself."

Kurt shrugged, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "So, maybe I changed my mind…"

Blaine bit his lip, keeping the smile that was threatening to take over his face at bay. "Oh…"

They didn't say anything else. Kurt went back to working, and Blaine went back to sorting out the books.

Every second of every day, Kurt was unpredictable. Blaine wouldn't have imagined the first day they met, that the rude asshole he immediately decided wouldn't ever work for him, could make him feel like _this_. He felt a constant tug deep within him that tried to push him to get closer, to learn him, to unravel the enigma of Kurt Hummel. Blaine was spell-bound; fascinated by the deep, color-changing pools of his eyes, by the unexpected kindness emerging when Kurt was clearly trying to suppress it. He wanted to learn the secrets swirling around in him, tempting him like a bright light attracting a moth towards its certain death. And wasn't that what Blaine was doing? Wishing he could get close enough to risk being burnt?

He was attracted to Kurt, but not just because of the way he looked (and let's face it, he looked amazing), but because he was the most enthrallingly unique man he had ever met… but he was trying to hide that. Kurt was trying to hide his uniqueness, to blend with everyone else, with people he clearly hated, in a town he hated living in… but _why_?

And here he was, standing in the middle of his bookshop, working with his back to Blaine, and all he could think about was how sincere and earnest he had seemed when he asked him about his father. Kurt was right: there was a story there he wanted to tell, a story that had affected his life. Blaine knew he could talk to his own mother about his father whenever he needed to, but he didn't want to risk making her even sadder, especially when she seemed to finally be getting back to normal.

Kurt had offered to listen. He had offered, as if he _cared_.

And Blaine was almost aching for someone to care.

"It was a car accident," Blaine finally said, in a soft voice. Kurt turned to look at him, apparently surprised that he had spoken after several minutes of silence. "He was coming home from work – he was a partner in a financial company – and it just happened, a fluke out of nowhere."

Kurt didn't say anything, he just sat down on the floor with his back against the wall and watched Blaine, showing him he had all his attention, but without coming closer, as if he wanted to give him his space, letting him set the pace for the conversation.

"When my mom called to tell me… I didn't believe her at first," Blaine smiled sadly. "I drove to their house and it was only when I got there that I realized she wasn't lying, that it was true and he was really gone." Blaine glanced at the box in front of him, grabbed a random book and held it, as if just having it in his hands would comfort him.

"You had a close relationship with him, I take it?" Kurt asked quietly.

Blaine frowned. "Not really. I mean… it's not that we argued, or anything. I just… I didn't really _know_ him, you know?" Blaine flipped the book open and looked down at it, without really seeing the words in the pages. "For a very long time, I thought he didn't like me, that he was just being polite because he had to… but it turns out I was wrong. He always loved me, he just wasn't very demonstrative. He wasn't open about sharing his feelings. He was just a quiet man with communication issues, and now I know that I could've had the most amazing relationship with him, but it's too late to fix it." With a sigh, Blaine closed the book and put it back into the box. "I spent years thinking he disapproved of me because I'm gay, and because I spend more time with books than with people, but it turns out that if I hadn't been so scared to be rejected by him, and just asked him, I wouldn't have had to wait until he was dead to know how wrong I was."

"He could've come and talked to you, too," Kurt muttered and when Blaine glanced at him, he saw he was smiling faintly. "Don't feel like it's all your fault, Blaine. Both of you made mistakes, but he should've taken the first step. Kids need their parents to take the first step, sometimes…"

"When I think that he should have been the one taking the first step, it makes me so angry, though," Blaine said, and it was the first time he actually voiced that. "Because he actually waited until it was too late, … he decided to show me he cared about me by leaving money to an LGBT project and a library in his will. And trust me, it means a lot that he did that. I was so touched… but why couldn't he just do what any normal father would and _tell_ me he loved me?"

"Blaine," Kurt said, resting his elbows on his knees to lean forward, fixing Blaine with those intense blue eyes. "That is a _lot_ more than normal fathers do. Maybe he didn't know how to approach you face to face when he was alive, but don't tell me it didn't make you feel overwhelmingly loved that your father knew you well enough, knew about the things you care about, to actually do something like that."

Blaine wrapped his arms around himself. "I was so shocked… I couldn't believe he would do something like that."

"You said you didn't really know him," Kurt murmured, as he straightened his back and rested again against the wall. "But, to me, it seems like you already know the most important thing about him."

"What?" Blaine asked, a bit breathless.

"He cared about you," Kurt answered. "And deeply. If not, why would have he taken the time to add those things to his will? He knew what was important to you, and he made sure you'd find out it was important for him, too. You mattered to him, and maybe he failed in letting you know that in time to give him a hug and go to a football game, but he clearly wanted to make sure that, even if he did fail to say it, you would still know." Kurt stood up, grabbed something from his bag and walked to Blaine, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder that let go too soon. "And that, to me, counts for a lot."

He dropped a tissue on Blaine's lap and only then did Blaine realize that his eyes were wet and that he had stopped breathing while Kurt was talking. Kurt went to the backroom, disappeared, probably deciding it was better to give him a moment, and Blaine clenched the tissue between his fingers, as he took a sharp breath in.

What Kurt had said may not have been the most shocking thing Blaine had ever heard. He might have reached that conclusion himself if he had allowed himself to actually think more about it, but it was the way Kurt had spoken to him, the way he had so obviously chosen his words so carefully, the way he had pushed them into Blaine's chest, so they could wrap themselves around Blaine's heart, that meant so much to him.

When Kurt returned, he was back to his old self, all his walls back up again, no traces of compassion or kindness visible in his face. Blaine pretended he didn't notice, he pretended he wasn't disappointed that he couldn't bring all those walls down completely, help Kurt be free, help him be whoever he really was.

But for now, Blaine found comfort in knowing that Kurt had decided to push his own boundaries enough to talk to him about something that clearly affected Blaine deeply. Blaine hadn't thrust that conversation upon Kurt – Kurt had offered to listen.

And that, Blaine hoped, had to mean something.

* * *

Since the little meltdown Heather had had not long ago, Blaine made a point of taking her out for lunch at least once a week, making sure that she had someone to talk to, and that she wasn't staying home, letting grief swallow her whole.

This was one of those days. Blaine had told Kurt the previous day to let himself in with the spare key, so now he found himself sitting in one of his mother's favorite restaurants, scanning the menu, and sort of wishing he could just order a plain cheeseburger. Instead, he looked up at the waitress with a smile and ordered the pasta with calamari, while Heather chose the salmon.

"So, how's the bookstore coming along?" Heather asked once they were alone, sipping a bit of water from her glass. "Do you have a date for the opening yet?"

"No, not yet," Blaine replied. "Maybe in a month, or so. I'm not sure how much longer it'll take."

"You must be getting really impatient," she commented with a knowing smile.

Blaine had to stop short at that. Once, not too long ago, he was impatient. But lately, he was so busy trying to understand Kurt that he had somehow forgotten about how desperately he wanted to open his bookshop. It didn't mean he wasn't excited about it anymore. It just meant that he wasn't so impatient to have the renovations done as he had been at first.

When it all had started, it was all about focusing on the goal and tolerating Kurt.

Now, it was all about enjoying the ride and the (odd, he had to admit) company, too.

"A little, but I'm having a lot of fun seeing everything coming together," Blaine answered with a little shrug.

"You'll have to take me there so I can see it," Heather patted his hand. "I'm very happy for you."

"Thanks, Mom," Blaine smiled brightly. "But I actually want to take you to see it when it's almost done. Now it's dirty and messy and Kurt's tools are everywhere…"

"How is it going, with this Kurt guy?" Heather asked, arching an eyebrow. "He seemed to be giving you a lot of trouble at first."

"Not anymore. He's better now," Blaine assured her. "He was sort of an… acquired taste. I'm used to him now." He knew that if he kept talking about Kurt, his fascination with him would show, so he decided to move the conversation to safer topics. "What about you? How's that new project that you told me you were starting with your friends?"

"Oh, it's going wonderfully," Heather said, and some of the enthusiasm that had been dead in her since Mark's death seemed to finally make its way back to her eyes. "We've decided to organize an auction to raise funds for the children's hospital. I'm actually going to need your help if you have any spare time…"

"Of course, Mom, how can I help?" He said, eager to keep her happy and distracted.

"I need to go through the stuff we have in the attic and the basement," she answered, as the waitress returned with their food. They smiled at her and thanked her. "We have lots of antiques I could donate for the auction, things I haven't used in years. But I want to make sure I don't give away anything that you would like to keep for yourself, or anything that has sentimental value."

"Maybe I can come over next weekend," Blaine replied. "Week days are pretty busy, but I spend most of my weekends at home, so…"

"Blaine," Heather narrowed her eyes and leaned over the table. "Are you locking yourself up at your apartment? Does this have anything to do with your date with Josh…?"

"Mom, no," Blaine hurried to say, definitely not wanting to talk about him. "It has nothing to do with _that_. I just… when did _I_ ever have any exciting plans for the weekend? And I get stressed a lot during the week with the shop, so mostly I just want to relax and watch old Buckeyes games and read and…"

"Okay, okay," Heather sighed. She grabbed his hand. "Honey, you know I worry about you constantly. You can't blame me for wanting you to be happy."

"But I _am_ happy," Blaine lied, and as if it would make it true just by saying it again, he added: "I am."

She looked at him in the eyes for a moment, before asking: "so, how's your pasta? This is delicious. Would you like to try some?"

Blaine felt relieved when the conversation moved on to lighter topics for the rest of the meal.

* * *

It was early afternoon by the time Blaine made it to the bookshop after his lunch date with his mother. He hadn't wanted to leave Kurt on his own for too long, knowing he wouldn't take his lunch break until Blaine arrived. So he parked the car next to Kurt's truck in front of the shop, and walked inside, while thinking that maybe he could start working on the inventory while Kurt left to get something to eat…

But when he entered the bookshop, he completely forgot about it, because it was so loud in there, and the sounds weren't coming from any of those big, electric tools Kurt owned.

It was Kurt hitting the wall Blaine wanted to knock down with a huge, heavy sledgehammer.

"Kurt?" Blaine called, a little surprised, and a little confused. "I thought you weren't going to start with that until next week, and that you were going to work on… Kurt?"

Blaine hesitated, and he knew, _he knew_, something had to be wrong. Kurt was hitting the wall so violently, without even noticing Blaine was there. It couldn't be just because he was so focused on what he was doing. The muscles in his back and arms strained with every blow, his white t-shirt was clinging to his body with sweat, and there was a huge hole in the wall where he was hitting it, rubble falling all around.

Blaine had never seen anyone work like that, so violently, so desperately. And he knew it was just a matter of time until Kurt hurt himself if Blaine didn't stop him…

And then he saw the tears.

They were running down Kurt's cheeks, silent and furious, spilling from his eyes in little unstoppable waterfalls that Blaine couldn't bear to look at.

"Kurt!" He exclaimed, taking a few steps closer. Kurt didn't even acknowledge him. "Kurt, stop!"

Instead of stopping, Kurt hit the wall even harder, fingers completely white from the tight grip around the sledgehammer. He was panting and gasping, and Blaine could tell a few broken sobs were threatening to escape.

"Kurt, stop, you're going to hurt yourself!" Blaine yelled over the noise. He knew that trying to physically stop Kurt himself could get him hurt, but he had to take the risk. He couldn't see Kurt doing this to himself. It seemed like all the hurt Kurt was experiencing was splitting him open. "Kurt!"

Blaine wrapped his arms around him from behind, pulling him away from the wall, but Kurt tried to fight him, struggling to break free, until his strength suddenly seemed to vanish. Blaine put a hand on his arm, stoping him from attempting to hit the wall once again, and then let that hand travel down Kurt's arm, to peel his fingers off the mallet.

"Ssh, Kurt, it's okay," Blaine whispered in his ear. He could feel Kurt's wild heartbeat and could feel him heaving against him. "It's okay, everything's fine…"

"Let go of me, Anderson!" Kurt yelled furiously. "Don't touch me!"

"I won't let go of you until you calm down!" Blaine replied steadily, tightening his arms around him. "You're going to get hurt!"

"That's none of your goddamn business! Why would _you_ care?" Kurt was still weakly fighting to make Blaine let go of him, but he wasn't succeeding. "Leave me the fuck alone!"

"I'm not letting go," Blaine said softly, soothing. "I'm not letting go of you, Kurt. I've got you…"

Kurt tried to take a deep breath. "Blaine… please…"

He was tired. He was tired of fighting, he was crumbling, and Blaine was there to catch him. Blaine wasn't letting go. "I've got you, Kurt," he repeated, pressing his forehead against Kurt's temple. "I'm right here."

Kurt's knees gave out and if it wasn't for Blaine holding him, he would've collapsed to the floor. Blaine held him in his arms and slowly lowered them down to the floor, sliding against the wall, pulling Kurt closer to his chest as he broke down, tears racing down his cheeks as his sobs finally made their way out. Blaine's heart clenched painfully: it was like watching a porcelain doll fall, crashing against the floor, breaking into a million pieces. He held Kurt and felt him crack in his arms, in his hands, broken, finally broken and defeated, but still so painfully beautiful, so perfect and sad.

Curled between Blaine's legs, with his face hidden in his chest, Kurt's hands closed in Blaine's shirt. His fists wrinkled the fabric in their attempt to find something to keep him anchored, as if he was afraid he would drift away if he didn't hold on, as if he was afraid he would get lost. Blaine allowed him to hold on as much as he needed to, safe in his arms. He had no idea what had happened; he was scared, too.

It had to have been something horrible. Kurt rarely showed any emotions at all, always hiding behind his carefully built walls, but this… this was so unexpected. It was the first time Blaine had looked at him and realized Kurt was as human as he was – for a long time he had seemed made of ice. And now, now he wasn't some heartless, rude asshole, or just a beautiful unreachable entity. _This_ was the real Kurt. He had a pulse, and he could hurt and break just as much as Blaine. He was holding Kurt, and Blaine didn't want to let go ever again.

He cried for such a long time that Blaine was starting to think it would never end. He wondered if Kurt would cry himself to exhaustion, or even to death. The way his body was shaking with the force of his sobs was absolutely heartbreaking, and Blaine found himself rubbing his back and making soothing noises, not sure how else to help the broken man in his arms.

But finally Kurt quietened, though his fists were still clenched tightly in Blaine's clothes, and tried to take some deep breaths to steady himself. Blaine ran his fingers soothingly through his hair, and waited, as patiently as he could.

Kurt slowly lifted his head, sniffling, and when he looked up at Blaine, he felt himself going breathless at the sight. Kurt's eyes were so wide, and so blue, and his lips were slightly parted, and there was a light blush covering his pale skin, whether from all the crying or from embarrassment, Blaine didn't know. What he did know, was that Kurt took his breath away. He was so gorgeous, and so miserable, and all Blaine wanted to do was promise that he would always keep him safe, and take care of him.

No words emerged from his mouth, though. Instead, Blaine leaned, slowly, so slowly, until his lips were hovering over Kurt's, giving him the chance to pull away. But Kurt didn't move away, and Blaine had to, he just _had _to kiss him, because maybe one kiss was enough to take the pain away. And if it wasn't, then at least it was a good place to start.

It was soft and tender, but only for a couple of seconds. Then, desperation and need took over, as Kurt pushed into it, claiming Blaine's mouth, and taking the comfort he needed. Blaine held him close and tasted – tears, coffee, and Kurt, just _Kurt_ – as he felt Kurt's lips parting even more, inviting him in, asking for everything Blaine was willing to give.

And right now, as Blaine cupped Kurt's face with a warm hand, and gently eased his tongue into Kurt's mouth, he realized he was willing to give him everything he had to give.

* * *

**Aaah. I've been really excited about this chapter for the longest time now and I'm so happy it was finally time to get it out there! What did you guys think? Hit review and tell me all about it!**

**Have a great weekend and I'll see you soon!**

**L.-**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi everyone! How are you doing?**

**I hope you're having a great weekend. It was a tough week, especially for us Glee fans with Cory's tribute episode. The best we can do now is remember him with the biggest of smiles. Like Kurt said, his death is just a tiny, little moment. His life was full of smiles, love and wonderful things to remember. So let's focus on that and remember him the way he deserves.**

**Thank you for all the amazingly nice reviews you've sent. I've enjoyed reading them, and I wish I had the time to reply to each and every one of you. Hopefully I'll have time once things slow down at school in a few weeks. But I want you all to know how much I appreciate your comments. Thank you thank you thank you!**

**I need to thank, as usual, my wonderful beta Wutif, and Christine, who's a beautiful person inside and out and I hope she always remembers that :)**

**I own nothing! Enjoy!**

* * *

Lack of oxygen forced them to break apart but Blaine still didn't want to let go. He kept his arms around Kurt, supporting him against his chest. Kurt hid his face in Blaine's neck, clinging to him with every bit of strength he had, as he panted, misting Blaine's skin with his warm breath.

"Ssh, it's okay," Blaine said for what felt like the hundredth time, rubbing circles on the small of Kurt's back. "It's okay. You're safe, Kurt."

"It's never been okay," Kurt whispered, his voice hoarse from crying. "It'll never be okay."

"Tell me what to do," Blaine begged. "I want to help. Tell me how."

Kurt silently shook his head, feeling defeated.

Blaine's hands carefully cupped his face and made him look up at him. His eyes were watery and so overwhelmingly blue, that Blaine felt himself drowning in them. "Hey, whatever it is, you can tell me…"

"I don't… I can't… Blaine, please," Kurt bit his lip, reddening them even more under the pressure of his teeth, so Blaine leaned down and kissed him again, to distract him.

Kurt dived into the kiss immediately, as if he'd found the answers to his problems. He wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck, pulling him closer, and whimpered. Blaine kissed him back, a little hungrily, hoping to soothe Kurt's pain, because he had no idea what else to do.

What do you do with someone who always seemed so strong and now was crumbling in front of you? Even though Blaine had managed to crack Kurt's mask a few times, he'd also known how insistently stubborn he could be, and he couldn't help but wonder what could have happened to break him into pieces like this.

Blaine had never considered himself particularly strong – he had always hidden away, burying his head behind a pile of books, using fantasy as a protective shield, keeping his eyes glued to the words when the world around him was too much to handle. And maybe Kurt had been hiding too (hadn't he actually admitted to it, a few days ago? Hadn't Blaine seen his true self, tastefully dressed, softer than usual, so incredibly scared of being unmasked?), but he wasn't weak. Not like Blaine. Kurt didn't hide from life; he walked around as if he owned it, as if nothing could touch him…

But something obviously had touched him, and Blaine was afraid, because… what could be so bad to actually _break_ someone like Kurt?

Kurt's head dropped to his chest, his fingers still clinging to Blaine's shirt in a death grip. His voice was shaky when he muttered, "I'm so tired…"

"I think you've had enough for today," Blaine said in a soothing voice, stroking Kurt's hair carefully. "Why don't you take the day off? Take all the time you need…"

Kurt's brow furrowed. He seemed to hate the idea of not being busy – and Blaine once again found himself wondering; wondering if Kurt was avoiding facing his own thoughts, hiding from himself. "No," he said, a lot more firmly than Blaine had heard him in a while. "I don't want to… I… I don't want to be alone right now, Blaine."

"You don't have to be alone," Blaine replied quietly. "I'll take you home, okay?"

Kurt simply let Blaine help him up, without saying a word, without any resistance. He stood in the middle of the room, with his arms around himself, looking so utterly lost that it broke Blaine's heart to pieces, while Blaine turned the lights off, gathered their things, and grabbed his keys.

"Where do you live? Is it far?" Blaine asked as he locked the door.

Kurt stood in the sunlight, eyes wandering warily, as if he was scared someone would see him with his guard down. "A few streets from here. It's not far."

"Then we'll take your truck, and I'll walk back here later for my car," Blaine answered, his fingers closed around Kurt's elbow to guide him to the truck, gently. "Okay if I drive?"

"Of course…" Kurt dropped the truck's keys into Blaine's hand before climbing into the passenger's seat.

Kurt only spoke enough to tell him how to get to his place, and then rested his temple against the window, closing his eyes. There was something inside of him emitting so much pain that Blaine had to fight the urge to to pull over to hold Kurt in his arms to reassure him that he would try to make everything better. Instead, Blaine continued to drive, because if that was what Kurt wanted right now, then that's what he'd do.

He forced himself not to think about Kurt kissing him, about how it felt to kiss Kurt, how their lips felt as they moved together. He had no idea where that had come from; if Kurt had kissed him back only because he needed comfort, if he had kissed Kurt only because he wanted to comfort him. He didn't know if he had let his curiosity about Kurt get out of control. Was that what this was about? He was so obsessed with Kurt, with how mysterious, how much of an enigma he was, that he had confused it for something else? He'd always known Kurt was attractive – you'd have to be blind not to see that – but, had he kissed him just because he was good looking?

It wasn't the right time to deal with his confusion. He had to push those thoughts away, because it was possible that Blaine was the only person Kurt could turn to for help right now, and he intended to be there for whatever he needed from him.

Blaine turned left into the street Kurt had indicated and slowed the car, looking for the right house. Kurt's eyes opened, and he looked tired, so tired, as if he hadn't slept in years.

"Third house on the left," he said simply and Blaine nodded.

The two-story house was small, clearly not meant for a big family. It had enough room for a garden at the front, but Kurt obviously hadn't taken the time to put any flowers anywhere. It still looked well cared for. The door seemed to have been recently painted in a dark shade of blue. Blaine parked the car on the driveway, killing the engine, and turned to look at Kurt hesitantly.

"I could make us some coffee and we could talk?" He offered. Just because Kurt didn't want to be alone, it didn't mean it would be okay for Blaine to just invade his personal space.

"Sure," Kurt said in a soft voice that didn't sound a lot like him, and climbed out of the car.

Kurt unlocked the door, and Blaine followed, making sure to wipe his shoes. It really was small, and it looked even smaller in the inside: the living room melted into a dining room, which was connected to the kitchen by a window-like partition. He was sure he could go all the way to the kitchen, and back to the front door in less than thirty steps. Blaine looked around a little bewildered, knowing he was staring right into Kurt. He believed there wasn't anything more intimate, more personal than a person's home. And if this was Kurt's home, then he was seeing to his core.

It was tastefully decorated, in a warm, cozy kind of way. There was a comfortable looking couch where Blaine would've happily snuggle with one of his favorite books for hours. The coffee table had a few magazines on it, and the bookshelves housed a mixture of family pictures and books, both of which Blaine itched to get a better look at. The dining room table was small with only two chairs to sit on (everything seemed to be compact in here). The galley kitchen was spotless, though only big enough for one person to work at the counter. Blaine imagined himself trying to help Kurt cook there, bumping against him every few seconds, laughing, dancing around each other…

Kurt was standing in the middle of the living room, looking lost in his own home, arms still wrapped around himself. Blaine realized he hadn't said anything since he had followed Kurt inside.

"You have a lovely house," Blaine said, because it was true. "It's cozy."

Kurt remained silent, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his eyes avoiding Blaine, still so full of fear and hurt…

"Kurt," Blaine took a chance, and cautiously stepped closer. "Look, I… I have no idea what's going on, but… we can talk about it, if that's what you need. I can stay for as long as you need me…" Blaine glanced at him, and frowned as he watched Kurt tighten his arms around himself, as if all he wanted to do was become invisible. "Or I can go. If that's what you'd rather. I'll just g–"

"No!" Kurt's voice seemed to echo in the living room, his blue eyes suddenly wide and fixed on Blaine. "No, please. No, I…"

Blaine could tell it was hard for Kurt to say what he wanted, to admit that he needed something, so he decided to make it easier for him. He slowly approached Kurt, giving him all the time in the world to stop him, and when Kurt had shown no signs of wanting him to back off, he pulled him gently into his arms.

Kurt's hand closed in fists on his back, his shirt clenched between his fingers. He buried his face into Blaine's neck, as if that was the only place in the world where he could ever be completely safe, and tried to tug him even closer, even though they were already as close as was physically possible.

Nothing more happened for a while. Blaine couldn't tell if it had been only a few minutes, or an hour, because somehow time didn't make sense when Kurt Hummel was holding him, as if Blaine's arms were all the shelter he could've ever wished for. Blaine silently rubbed his back or squeezed him whenever he felt Kurt becoming tense again. It felt as if he was fighting; fighting against something Blaine couldn't see, couldn't understand…

It was Blaine who broke the silence, and only because he knew that holding Kurt – even if it felt wonderful – wouldn't solve anything. Kurt was still hurting, and if he wanted to help him, he needed to try something else.

"Hey," he whispered, his hand coming up to cup Kurt's cheek and make him look at him. Kurt reluctantly pulled away from where he had been resting on his neck. "We can talk, we can… what do you need, Kurt?"

Kurt's eyes bored into his, big, blue, bright, and so beautiful they took Blaine's breath away. His lips parted, just slightly, and a tiny sigh escaped between them. He looked pale, tired and lost, and Blaine wanted to grab his hand and guide him out of the darkness to wherever he would feel safe again.

"Why are you doing this?" Kurt asked in a low voice. "Why are you even here?"

"What do you mean?" Blaine frowned, confused.

"I've been nothing but an asshole to you. I've said things that I… and I've treated you like…" Kurt stopped, swallowed, shook his head and closed his eyes. "You should go. You should leave. I shouldn't have… I'm not…"

"Kurt," Blaine interrupted, his voice soft as velvet. "Don't. Just don't. I'm not going anywhere."

"Why not?" Kurt didn't seem to understand, as if he couldn't believe someone would actually _want_ to stay with him.

"Because I care," Blaine said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I care, and I'm not leaving you. I'm here to help, I'm here to…"

Kurt moved forward, capturing Blaine's mouth in an urgent kiss. Caught by surprise, Blaine let out a quick gasp, and Kurt pushed his tongue inside, desperate, hot and smooth, eliciting an unexpected moan from Blaine. Blaine's hands moved up to Kurt's shoulders, suddenly needing something to hold on to.

Even when he felt like he was floating, even when he was in a daze as Kurt's lips moved on his, Blaine knew exactly what was happening. It was as if a part of his brain was entirely conscious of the electricity in the room, of how the air had gotten thicker, of how Kurt's fingers were digging into his sides, trying to melt their bodies together. Blaine knew what was going to happen if he didn't stop kissing Kurt right now. He just _knew_.

He remembered how he'd felt after Josh, so dirty and worthless. He had regretted falling into something he'd made up in his head, for believing something that wasn't real. He knew that if he didn't stop Kurt now, they would end up doing the same, and yet… he wasn't worried. He wasn't nervous. Something was pulling him towards Kurt, something he couldn't explain.

He should've felt like a hypocrite, because it hadn't even been a month since he'd told himself he couldn't have casual sex, when he had told Josh that it wasn't who he was… but now, with Kurt panting into his mouth and his hands so firmly against him, he wanted to give his body to him. He was sure nothing would be different – Josh hadn't wanted anything to do with Blaine after he was done with him, so why would Kurt? – but he couldn't stop himself. Not now.

Maybe Kurt was the one falling apart, needing comfort, but Blaine needed him, too, in a way he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

Kurt was drowning. He was drowning in their kiss and he didn't give a damn. He just wanted the kiss to never end, but Blaine pulled away, keeping their foreheads together, their lips brushing air between them as they gasped to get some into their lungs. Kurt's fingers curled even tighter in Blaine's clothes.

"Blaine…"

"What do you need?" Blaine asked, breathless. "Just tell me, Kurt, tell me…"

"You," Kurt blurted, his eyes so big, so needy, so desperate.

Blaine swallowed. There would be no turning back. He would have to deal with the consequences. It took him less than a heartbeat to make his decision. "Okay."

* * *

Kurt guided him upstairs, and Blaine silently followed, very aware of his heart pounding wildly in his chest, aware of the creaking of the third step, aware of Kurt's hand clasping his, aware of the sunlight through the curtains. It felt strange, doing this in the middle of the day, when everyone was going about their daily business. He wouldn't have a walk of shame in the middle of the night, slipping out of bed and sneaking out of the house unnoticed, protected by the darkness. He would have to leave the house when the light was still bright outside, when children were playing in the streets, when people were driving back home after work. Everyone would see him leave, and everyone would know he was the guy who had been in Kurt Hummel's bed, the guy who'd been a quick comfort-fuck.

He felt a lump in his throat, but he ignored it. He wanted this. In some strange, twisted, incomprehensible way, he wanted this. Maybe it was his way of taking control of his body, of stopping himself from being scared of living a little, like Josh had accused him of. Maybe he was simply tired of being alone. Maybe he was tired of seeing sex as something so important, so sacred.

His stomach churned inside of him.

The upstairs of the house looked even smaller. There was just a bathroom and a bedroom up there. Kurt's bedroom. His bed was big, bigger than Blaine's, and covered in throw pillows. Everything was decorated in shades of red combined with white, and for a moment, Blaine felt as if he had stepped into a Valentine's Day card. Only the hearts were missing. Blaine hesitated for a second… no. It wasn't about sweetness, and it wasn't about love. It was about… it was about sex.

And he was going to enjoy it.

Kurt stopped in the middle of the room. His hands cupped Blaine's face, a lot more tenderly than Blaine had expected, and his eyes (so incredibly blue, it was hypnotizing) were once again gazing in his, and Blaine couldn't look away. It was as if he was under some spell.

"You're shaking…" Kurt whispered, as he stroked his cheekbones with his thumbs.

He was. Blaine could feel the tremors all over his body, but he knew they weren't about fear, or regret. It was desire making him shake. Desire so strong and pure that it could barely be contained under his skin, pushing to go out, trying to find a way to escape.

Blaine wasn't sure he had ever felt this much before.

"I'm okay," he assured him, his lips curving slightly into a smile. "Really."

Kurt leaned in, brushed a kiss to Blaine's jaw and then moved down to his neck, teeth scraping the skin there, tearing another moan out of Blaine, before stepping back to take another look at him. "I can be… do you need me to be gentle?"

Blaine's breath hitched in his throat. "No. No… I… fuck me as hard as you need to, Kurt."

Flames. Those were flames in Kurt's eyes, and the blue in them was suddenly gone, replaced by a dark _want_ that made the blood in Blaine's veins boil.

They undressed quickly, there's nothing ceremoniously about it, no stopping to kiss every inch of the other's skin, no time to whisper praises of the other's beauty, no time to worry about where their clothes landed. Blaine was still unbuttoning his pants when Kurt was already naked, pushing the decorative pillows on his bed to the floor, and yanking the covers and sheets back, folding them without much care at the end of the mattress.

_Courage_. Blaine took a deep breath and walked to Kurt, sliding his arms around him and turning him so they were facing each other, and just watched him, for only a second, before closing the distance to kiss him once more. Only this time he didn't stop at his mouth. He let his lips trail down, he nibbled on the curve of his neck, and on a perfect collarbone, and he licked one of Kurt's perfectly pink nipples until it was a slick peak and the only sound filling the room were Kurt's breathy whimpers.

Kurt made him back away until Blaine's legs hit the edge of the bed, and then Kurt's hands were on his chest, pushing him until Blaine fell on the mattress, so terribly conscious of his own nakedness as Kurt looked down at him. Kurt straddled him, keeping their hips at a safe distance, and his gaze was so hungry that Blaine forgot how to breathe for a moment. He carefully took Blaine's glasses off and put them down on the bedside table.

The skin on Kurt's back was insanely smooth when Blaine pressed a hand against it, feeling how the muscles shifted under his fingers as Kurt lowered himself to kiss Blaine once again, open mouthed and deeper, their tongues meeting halfway and battling for dominance until Kurt's wrapped around Blaine's, pulling it into his own mouth to suck on it, causing Blaine to thrust up as he moaned, their hard cocks brushing teasingly between them.

"You're okay with me topping?" Kurt asked as he ran his fingers through the patch of hair on Blaine's chest, before letting one of his fingernails catch on one of his nipples.

Blaine hissed. "_So_ okay…"

The smirk that appeared on Kurt's face was reminiscent of the ones Blaine had hated so much at first, but completely different at the same time. This one was flirty, warm, playful, and Blaine leaned up to kiss it away.

Kurt stood up, his body suddenly too far for Blaine's grabby hands. "No… come back…"

Kurt chuckled and Blaine wished he could record the sound, play it again a thousand times, use it as his alarm every morning. "Don't be impatient, I just need to get things…"

Blaine watched as Kurt opened the top drawer of his bedside table, and scooted up on the bed, until he was lying on the middle of it. Kurt dropped a condom and bottle of lube on the mattress next to Blaine, and then climbed on top of him purposefully, lips searching for another kiss.

Distracted by the slide of their wet tongues together, Blaine gasped in surprise when Kurt's fingers closed around him, stroking lazily a couple of times, making it impossible for Blaine not to buck up into Kurt's loose fist, looking for more.

"Would you get on your hands and knees for me?" Kurt whispered right into Blaine's ear, sending a delicious shiver down his spine.

Blaine nodded jerkily and hurried to oblige. He usually preferred being on his back, facing the other person. Being like this felt like too much exposure, like there was no connection at all… but somehow, now it sent a thrill all over him, and he gripped the headboard tightly, tilting his ass up, making Kurt groan at the sight. Blaine couldn't remember ever being as bold as this…

"I was so right," Kurt muttered as he dropped a kiss to the small of Blaine's back. "So right when I told you this ass was meant to be fucked… look at you… Blaine, you're perfect."

Blaine squirmed, not used to the way Kurt talked to him, to the way he made him feel. "Kurt…"

"Ssh, it's alright," Kurt coated his fingers throughly. "You look so good, Blaine…"

The first finger pressed against his entrance and Blaine forced himself to relax, as he breathed through his nose. It always felt so foreign, letting someone touch him like this, but something about the way Kurt was doing it, gentler than Blaine had expected even when he had given him permission to be rough, made it better than any of the other times Blaine had done this.

Soon, Kurt was able to push a second finger in, followed by a third. He stretched Blaine carefully, teasing his prostate without giving him exactly what Blaine begged for, biting the firm skin of Blaine's asscheeks and soothing it with his tongue, distracting him, arousing him, perfectly.

Blaine had screwed his eyes shut, but when he heard the condom wrapper tearing open, he looked back over his shoulder to see Kurt rolling it on him, stroking himself a couple of times as he slicked his cock with a generous amount of lube. Blaine bit his lip and parted his legs a little wider, watching as Kurt shifted closer and lined up, ready to push inside…

It was the best kind of ache. Blaine felt immediately full, Kurt was so big inside of him. He was buried completely and holding on to Blaine's sides as he breathed deeply. And then he pulled out almost all the way, before thrusting back in, and Blaine wailed. All traces of gentleness disappeared as Kurt took him up on his word, fucking into Blaine hard and fast, fingers digging into his hips, probably leaving bruises that Blaine would be looking at all week.

At first it was paralyzing, how good it felt. Blaine's mouth was open, his jaw slack, and his eyes closed, and all he could do was take it, moaning every time Kurt pushed into him. But then his body wanted more, and Blaine couldn't understand how it could possibly be _more_, when this felt like everything, like so much already, and he started pushing back, bracing himself with his tight grip on the headboard, the muscles of his arms and legs straining as he pushed himself back, trying to get Kurt impossibly deeper, feeling him _everywhere_, he could feel him _everywhere_, it was so much, so good, so _full_…

Kurt leaned over his back, wrapping his arms around his chest, to kiss the back of his neck, and the new angle made Blaine cry out in pleasure and move his hips back a little faster. Kurt's thrusts became shorter, faster, harder, and they were both so close, they could feel it…

"K-Kurt," Blaine whined, his head falling forward, his breath going quicker, his moans growing more and more desperate.

Kurt moved one of his hands down to stroke Blaine, so hot and hard under his fingers, and Blaine was dizzy, unable to decide if he wanted to push back or forward more, if he needed Kurt's cock filling him so right, or Kurt's hand on him trying to fist his orgasm out of him more.

It turned out he didn't have to decide, there was no time for that. Kurt started pulsing inside of him, coming deep inside of him, as a high-pitched moan escaped from his lips, pressed to Blaine's shoulderblades. And that was enough, exactly what he needed, and with one last stroke, Blaine came as Kurt fucked him through his orgasm. His knuckles white from holding onto the headboard, completely sure he had gone blind and deaf for a moment, because everything disappeared, nothing existed but the pleasure buzzing through his body, making every inch of him tingle with it.

Blaine's knees finally gave out, and they both collapsed, panting hard. Blaine's face was buried on Kurt's pillow, and even if he'd been suffocating he wouldn't have been able to move. He was completely spent, boneless.

He finally rolled to the side, leaving room for Kurt to drop on the bed, and once again he kept his eyes closed. He knew that as soon as he was able to think and breathe, he would need to leave, and his throat was already tightening, wishing things were different, but still not regretting it…

He'd never felt this good in his life, but he still wanted to cry.

Kurt's fingers brushed his ribs gently and Blaine's eyes snapped open. Kurt was smiling lazily, eyes overwhelmingly blue once more, and staring right into Blaine's. "Hey."

"Hey," Blaine croaked, voice tired and mouth dry after moaning so much.

"You're too far away," Kurt mumbled, and crooked a finger at him, beckoning him closer. "Come here."

Blaine frowned, confused. "I… you…"

Kurt's smile fell. "Oh. Well. You can leave if you want. I just…"

"I thought you'd want me to leave…" Blaine licked his lips, and tentatively reached to touch Kurt's shoulder. "Was I wrong?"

The grin curving Kurt's mouth was a little sad. "You really think I'm a complete asshole, don't you?"

"Kurt," Blaine scooted closer, his backside already throbbing painfully, but he ignored it. "You think I would've done this if I thought you're an asshole?"

Kurt's fingers found their way into Blaine's hair, and he tried to loose the gel to free the curls that had survived until now. "I don't blame you."

Blaine sighed and kissed him, chaste and sweet. "I think you want to make people _believe_ that you're an asshole, but I know you're not, even if you did trick me into believing it at the beginning…"

They stayed silent, simply gazing into each other's eyes for a moment, as their hearts went back to their normal pace and their chests stopped heaving. Blaine winced when he tried to shift to get more comfortable, and Kurt's hand flew to the small of his back, rubbing there comfortably.

"Are you okay?" He asked, a little worried.

"I'm great," Blaine reassured him. His hazel eyes searched deeper into his blue ones, and his hand moved to the back of Kurt's head to stroke the hairs at the nape of his neck. "How are _you_?"

Kurt sighed, and he only hesitated for a moment before snuggling against Blaine's chest. "You're not letting _that_ go, are you?"

"Kurt," Blaine said gently, smiling down at him. "You don't have to tell me anything, and I told you I'd help in any way I can, but… I have to say, I'm a little worried."

Kurt closed his eyes and nodded very slowly. "Okay. Okay. But… can we… can we just stay like this for a little longer? I'll tell you everything, I just… I need some time."

Blaine wrapped his arms around him, pulled him closer, kissed his forehead. "Of course."

Neither had ever felt as safe as they felt in that moment.

* * *

It didn't take very long until they had fallen asleep, wrapped in each other and the comfortable silence they had built between them.

When Blaine woke up, he knew they hadn't actually slept for long - the sun was still coming in through the window, bright, warming up the room. He had probably only dozed off for a few minutes, but that had been enough for Kurt to slip out of bed unnoticed.

Blaine bit his lip, wondering where Kurt was, and if he had maybe ran out of the room at his first opportunity, if he had changed his mind and wanted Blaine gone, if...

Kurt entered the room, hair damp and brushed off his forehead, skin slightly pink from being under the shower spray, looking fresh and breathtakingly beautiful.

"You're awake," he said with a soft smile. He was wearing only a pair of boxer briefs, and Blaine couldn't keep his eyes from roaming over all that pale skin on display.

"I am," Blaine confirmed with a smile of his own.

"You can take a shower too, if you want," Kurt offered, and then seemed a bit uncertain. "I can make coffee in the meantime, and we can talk, if... if you still want to?"

"I want to," Blaine stood up, fighting the urge to cover himself with his hands or tugging at the sheets to cover his naked body. He knew he was blushing, but he didn't want to look like an embarrassed virgin in front of Kurt.

"I left clean towels for you," Kurt said. "You can use whatever you want."

Kurt caught his wrist before Blaine could walk out of the room, turning him just enough so he could press their lips together, and they both kept their eyes open, eyelashes fluttering as they looked at each other in a way that made their insides twirl.

Once he was in the shower, Blaine took a moment to simply stand under the water, letting it hit his back, relaxing his muscles. He rested his forehead against the cold tiles, and tried not to think. It wasn't time to think, yet, not when Kurt needed him, when he was about to tell him something that was clearly important. He would think about himself later, when he was back home, when he could deal with his thoughts and his feelings alone.

There was an assortment of shampoos and conditioners, so many shower gels and creams that Blaine had no idea what they were for. He chose a random bottle of shampoo and washed his hair, immediately smiling when he could smell Kurt, and felt Kurt all around him.

He spent a few more minutes in there, washing the dried come off his stomach, and admiring the purple finger-shaped bruises already forming on his hipbones, before he stepped out of the shower and wrapped himself in one of the towels that Kurt had left for him.

He walked out of the bathroom with his hair a mess of curls, but Blaine very well knew that it was hopeless without some gel. He kept the towel around his waist and went back into the bedroom to find his clothes.

Kurt was sitting on the bed, still in his underwear, though he had put on an undershirt, too. There were two cups of coffee on the bedside table, and their comforting scent was already filling the room.

With his back to Kurt, Blaine let the towel fall and stepped into his boxers, blushing furiously. He would never be the kind of guy who could walk around naked in front of a man, even if they had just slept together. There was something extremely vulnerable about standing completely bare in front of someone when their bodies weren't touching. Blaine wasn't a fan of being vulnerable...

"Come on, your coffee's going to go cold," Kurt said softly from the bed.

Blaine climbed back on the left side. Kurt had changed the sheets and folded the cover a little more neatly. Blaine wasn't sure how comfortable Kurt would be near him now, if he was allowed to touch him in any way or not, so he leaned against the pillows, sitting with his legs curled under himself, the way he always did when he was getting ready to start a new book he'd been dying to read for a while.

Kurt handed him one of the cups of coffee, as his eyes (now an impressive shade of green) fixed on his hair. Blaine tried to flatten it self-consciously.

"No, no," Kurt grabbed his hand to stop him, and then carefully ran his fingers through his damp curls. "I like it. You have beautiful hair, Blaine."

Blaine tried to hide his blush behind his coffee. "It's a mess..."

"It doesn't mean it can't be beautiful," Kurt shrugged and gave him a smile, small and bright all at the same time.

Blaine missed his fingers in his hair as soon as Kurt let his hand fall between them. He pulled his knees up to his chest, as if still trying to shield himself somehow, and took a sip of coffee, eyes still on Blaine, a bit wary.

"So..." Blaine whispered.

"So," Kurt echoed, glancing away, hands tightening around his cup. "Are you sure you want to hear about this? You don't have to, Blaine."

"I want to help," Blaine insisted, smiling encouragingly. "If you want to talk about it, I'll listen."

Kurt shook his head, and that air of defeat returned to him, making him seem paler in the sunlight. "I... I don't even know where to start."

"Why don't you start by telling me why you were so upset?" Blaine said gently.

Kurt sighed and put his cup of coffee down on the bedside table, before standing up and walking to the chair where he had put the clothes he had been wearing earlier, grabbing his jeans and searching in its pockets until he found what he was looking for. He went back to the bed, extended a white envelope to Blaine, who took it with a frown, and resumed his position with his knees to his chest and his coffee in a tight grip between his hands.

Blaine reached for his glasses before opening the envelope, extracting a single sheet of paper, and he glanced at Kurt for confirmation one last time.

"Go ahead," Kurt muttered, and Blaine began to read.

_Dear Kurt,_

_I miss you. I think that's the perfect way to start this letter, because… I do. I really miss you, and everyday I wish you were still here with me. For so long I've tried to contact you, to talk to you, but my emails never got a reply, and you never picked up your phone. Every time I went to Ohio, I looked for you, but I guess you didn't want to be found._

_Finn gave me your house address – but please don't be mad at him. He only did it because I begged endlessly, and because he knows you could use a friend. And I'm still your friend, Kurt, I'll always be your friend._

_I love New York, but when I'm walking around the city, nothing feels right, because you're not there with me. I've made new friends, and I've met lots of people in these past few years, but I always feel empty, because no one can replace you, there's no one who can fill the best-friend shoes quite like you. No one's as fabulous as you are, and I hope you still remember that._

_I wanted you to know (you were the first person I wanted to tell, the only one who would ever understand what this means, and it was so sad knowing I couldn't just run to our apartment to see you) that I finally, _finally_ got my very first lead on Broadway. I'm going to be Elphaba, Kurt. I don't think I still believe it – I feel like I'm going to wake up from a dream and realize I'm still singing Wicked songs with you, fantasizing about being on stage. After so many years of auditioning, of off-off-off Broadway plays, of playing characters with barely any lines… I've made it. And the most important person I want to share this with, is you._

_That is why I'm including two tickets for my opening night, and I hope that when I go out on stage, I'll see your face in the audience. I need you to be there, Kurt._

_I know you think dreams can't be more than just dreams. I know you gave up on them a long time ago, but I still believe in you. Every single day I wake up knowing how talented and amazing you are, and every night I go to bed praying you'll remember it too._

_Please, think about it. It would mean a lot to me to see you here._

_I need you, I miss you, I love you,_

_Rachel._

Blaine finished reading and looked up at Kurt, who was looking down into his coffee cup intently. "I don't understand…"

"She says I gave up," Kurt muttered in a voice barely high enough for Blaine to hear him. "And she's absolutely right."

"But… why?" Blaine tilted his head to the side and just managed to stop himself from scooting closer to Kurt.

Kurt took a deep breath, and it was evident it took a huge effort for him to talk about this. Blaine couldn't help but feel honored that he was the person Kurt was opening up to. "When I was a senior in high school, I applied to NYADA. I wanted to be a performer, I wanted to be on a Broadway stage… but I didn't get in. Rachel did, and she left, she went to New York and I stayed here, working for my dad. But then he somehow convinced me to go to New York anyway, to follow my dreams, and I did. I moved to New York, moved in with Rachel, and I started applying to interships and a couple more schools for the second semester…"

Kurt paused, took a sip of coffee, avoided Blaine's eyes. Blaine ached to reach for his hand.

"Nothing worked. I didn't get any of the internships and I didn't get into the other schools," Kurt swallowed and Blaine knew he was holding back tears. "So after a few months of failing at everything, I came back to Ohio."

"Kurt…"

"I wasn't a good enough performer to be on Broadway, and I wasn't good enough in fashion to get an internship, either," Kurt rolled his eyes and a few tears escaped down his cheeks. He laughed bitterly. "I mean, what was I _thinking_? Going to New York, a city so full of talented people, thinking I could make it? I was delusional…"

"Kurt, don't…"

"I was, Blaine!" Kurt exploded, the tears now furiously falling down his face. He wiped them away carelessly. "For years I was convinced I was better than anyone else in this town, than the idiots pushing me around in school, and it turns out, I wasn't! The only thing I've ever wanted was to leave Lima and never look back, and here I still am! I had to come back because I couldn't stand facing more rejection, not in the one place I thought I would be accepted, in the one place I was supposed to fit in! New York was my dream and my haven while I survived high school, and I was wrong."

"There's still time, Kurt," Blaine hurried to say, this time shifting closer, putting his mug down to hold one of Kurt's hands on his own. "There's always time, you could…"

"No. there's no more time. I'm done wasting my time with silly, naïve dreams, Blaine. I'm twenty eight, I'm not a kid anymore…" Kurt looked down, hugged his knees closer, squeezed Blaine's hand in his. "I have a job, a house and bills to pay."

"Can you honestly tell me that this is how you want to spend the rest of your days? Kurt… you're still young," Blaine stroked his hair, cupped his cheek, and forced him to look at him. "You can still try. If you don't try…"

"If I don't try, there's no more disappointment," Kurt interrupted in a firm, hash tone. "Okay, maybe I hate my life, maybe I need to find a reason to actually get up every morning and it's getting harder and harder every day, but life isn't ever easy. Life isn't what you plan when you're a kid. Do you think I wanted to work in _construction_? No, of course not. But I had a chance and I had to take it, because I couldn't live with my parents anymore. It isn't what I want, it'll never be what I want, but… Blaine, dreams change, dreams die…"

Blaine could feel a lump forming in his throat. He'd had it rough, he'd been lonely… but the pain in Kurt's words, in Kurt's face… it was completely heartbreaking. "Then what's your dream now?"

"I don't have one," Kurt answered. "They're useless. They're pointless. They only make reality feel like a temporary thing, but then nothing changes, and you only feel worse about yourself…"

"I wish you didn't feel like that," Blaine said sadly, moving closer, not giving a damn about precaution, and just snuggling against Kurt's side. "I'm not saying life isn't hard… but it isn't as awful as you make it sound."

Kurt didn't reply, and Blaine sighed. He just dropped his head on Kurt's shoulder, hoping his warmth would be somehow comforting, but knowing it wasn't enough.

"How did you end up with this job?" He asked after a couple of minutes.

"It sort of fell on my lap," Kurt muttered, one of his arms moving to wrap around Blaine, as he put his own coffee cup on the nightstand. "One of my dad's neighbors needed help fixing a few things in her house. She was an old lady, and she had always been decent to me, so I offered. I needed the money, anyway. Then she recommended me to a friend… and then another… and it sort of started like that. I learned how to do more complicated things and I got a few more jobs…"

Blaine cleared his throat. He wasn't sure he was allowed to bring this up, but he wanted to know… "Your dad… he told me you don't usually work for people who treat you right…"

"Oh, yeah. I knew it would be a bad idea for you to be alone with him," Kurt sighed tiredly. "Well, I'm a gay construction worker in Ohio. I dress in Marc Jacobs and Alexander McQueen. Of course they don't think I'm normal."

"You said you only dress like that when you go to your parents' place and at your own house," Blaine pointed out.

"Yeah. After a while, I realized it was easier being… less_ me_. It kept me out of trouble, and it was hard enough getting steady jobs without people judging me as soon as they saw me. So I decided to keep it simple."

Kurt's voice was flat, indifferent, but Blaine could still hear the hurt behind it. Kurt had had to give up everything: his dreams, the city he loved, even who he _was_. Blaine couldn't imagine how that must've felt to him. No wonder he was so bitter and disappointed. What kind of life was he living?

Without even giving it a second thought, Blaine pushed Kurt down until he was lying on his back, and moved to lie on top of him, covering him with his body, and lacing their fingers together above Kurt's head. He kissed him, sweet and slow, until he felt Kurt relaxing under him.

"I'm sorry," Blaine whispered against his lips. "I wish I could take away all of your sadness and make it all better."

Kurt brought one of Blaine's hands to his mouth and softly kissed his knuckles. "You're the only person who's gotten this close to me in years. You're already making it better by listening."

As Blaine moved forward for another kiss, he thought it still wasn't enough.

He wanted to do more than listen.

* * *

**All of you had lots of questions about Kurt... I think this chapter answered a few of them, at least!**

**Please comment and let me know what you thought of this! Were you expecting Kurt's story to have to do with that? Did you suspect Blaine would end up agreeing to sleeping with him? Hit review and share your thoughts!**

**I have a difficult week ahead, but I'll do my best to get chapter 10 up next weekend. Cross your fingers and I'll see you then!**

**Love,**

**L.-**


	10. Chapter 10

**Hey everyone!**  
**Sorry I couldn't update sooner. Last week was hell and I just got some time to breathe today. I hope this chapter will be worth the wait!**

**Thank you all for the amazing reviews! Keep them coming. They are really motivating and I'm so grateful for all your support :)**

**All my love goes out to my beautiful beta, Wutif, who really needs a hug or two right now. Love you, B.**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

It was almost dark outside by the time they drove back to the book store so Blaine could get his car. Their hair was damp from the second shower they'd both had to take and Blaine flinched uncomfortably when he got into the truck, thinking it had been _so_ worth it.

The drive was tranquil on the way back, underscored with soft music playing from the radio. Blaine hummed under his breath as Kurt drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, a lot more relaxed than he had been earlier. He was dressed in his nice clothes, with a light scarf around his neck to hide the evidence of his afternoon with Blaine, since he was going from there to dinner with his family.

When they arrived at the bookshop, Kurt cut the engine before turning to face him.

"Thank you for today," he said softly, almost bashfully. "I'm sorry I didn't get a lot of work done here. I promise I'll…"

"Hey," Blaine smiled, and reached for Kurt's hand to place a quick kiss on his palm. "I really don't care. It's not like it was a total waste of time, right?"

Kurt grinned and then bit his lips to hide it. "Right…"

They moved at the same time, mouths searching, Kurt's hand going to the back of Blaine's neck to pull him in, Blaine's finding a perfect place to rest on Kurt's side. Their lips slid together for a little while, soft and teasing, until they remembered they were sitting in plain view in a truck in Lima.

"I guess I'll see you…" Kurt muttered, breathless.

"Yeah…" Blaine interrupted, eyes fixed on his lips, dying to press one more kiss to them.

"Oh, fuck it," Kurt mumbled, and leaned to kiss Blaine again.

"You're… going… to be late… for dinner…" Blaine managed to say whenever their mouths shifted enough for him to get the words out.

"Don't care," Kurt groaned, pushing his tongue against Blaine's. "God, Blaine, I…"

A cellphone rang and they both jumped apart as if they had been caught in the act. Laughing nervously, Kurt fished his phone out of his pocket while Blaine tried to fix his hair, even though it was so completely wrecked, it seemed pointless.

"Hi… yeah, hi, Dad. I'm on my way right now…" Kurt said into the phone, turning to look at Blaine with dark eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine. No, no, I'm not breathing funny. I'm just driving. Sure. Sure I can pick some dessert up… No, don't worry. I'll be there soon. Love you, too."

Kurt slipped his phone back into his pocket as Blaine grabbed his satchel.

"I think that's my cue to go," Blaine smiled at him and squeezed his hand. If he kissed him again, he would never leave. "Have a nice dinner."

"Thanks," Kurt answered. He looked into Blaine's eyes meaningfully. "For everything."

"Any time," he squeezed his hand once again, and then exited the truck. He watched Kurt as he drove away, standing by his own car, only climbing into it when he couldn't see him anymore.

During the long, silent drive back to his apartment, Blaine had a lot of time to think.

* * *

Images of Kurt fucking him kept running through Blaine's head, keeping him awake and restless. Kurt's lips on his, Kurt's hands on his hips, Kurt's pale skin against his, Kurt's sheets tangled around his legs, Kurt, Kurt, _Kurt_…

It was amazing how easily Kurt had crawled under his skin, make a nest there, as if he was planning to stay for a very long time. It was unsettling and exciting at the same time. Blaine wasn't sure if he was suited for someone as extraordinary as Kurt, when he was so average. Blaine was the kind of guy who stumbled over his own feet when he walked down the street. Kurt walked with his head high, as if he owned the street, with his eyes glaring, and his boots heavy on the asfalt, making people turn to stare at him. No one would pain attention to Blaine even if he was standing on a rooftop, screaming his lungs out. Kurt only needed to step into a room to stop people in their tracks. Blaine was invisible; Kurt was a force of nature.

Blaine knew instinctively, without a second thought, that Kurt meant heartbreak. If he allowed himself to fall in love with Kurt, there was only pain ahead for him.

Blaine tossed in his bed, trying to get comfortable. Maybe he was being unfair. Yes, Kurt was the most frustatingly complicated man Blaine had ever met, but that didn't mean he was _bad_. In fact, Blaine knew that Kurt was just a wounded soul trying to survive in a difficult world full of pain, regret, and broken hopes. He wasn't naïve or credulous like Blaine could be. Life had hardened him, but deep down inside, he was just as vulnerable and lonely as Blaine was.

Stronger, though. He was so much stronger than Blaine. Blaine would've never been able to fight for survival like Kurt did every single day. Blaine would've cracked under that pressure within a week. Kurt was braver.

Could someone like Kurt be 'fixed'? Could Blaine make him see the beauty in life again? Could Blaine make him dream again? Kurt was so terribly stubborn and defensive, but Blaine felt like he needed to try.

No one should be as lonely, desperate, and broken as Kurt was.

* * *

Blaine certainly wasn't expecting things to be like this when they met again. He hadn't imagined Kurt walking into the book store with a bouquet of roses, wearing a tuxedo, with a horse-drawn carriage ready to take them on a romantic ride around Lima, but… this? He expected more than this.

Blaine arrived at the store first, put his satchel down on the armchair and his laptop on the small table next to it, as he usually did. He set down the cup holder with the two Lima Bean cups, hoping they would stay warm until Kurt got there. He turned his computer on and grabbed his notepad from his bag, flipping the pages until he found the list he was looking for: several things were underlined and checked off – the list of things that remained to be done was getting shorter and shorter every day.

He was checking his emails when Kurt walked in, dressed in his usual jeans and clinging t-shirt, toolbelt hanging around his hips and his boots not making a sound on the still-carpeted floor. He took his Wayfarers off, and Blaine immediately smiled at him, bright and a little eager.

Kurt only allowed his lips to curl up in a really lame attempt at a smile. "Good morning."

"Hey," Blaine said, as his own smile faltered. "I… bought you coffee."

"Thanks," Kurt answered simply, putting his tool box and bag down against the opposite wall.

Blaine stood to bring the coffee to him. "It's still warm."

Kurt tried to smile again as he accepted it. He failed. "There's a lot to do today, so I 'd better…" he muttered after a quick sip, gesturing around him vaguely.

Blaine nodded clumsily, feeling extremely confused, and then retreated to the safe armchair, to the comfort of his own coffee.

What the hell was going on?

_It was just a fuck. He needed a way to relieve the tension and you were just convenient. It didn't mean anything to him. He doesn't care about you. You're not good enough. You're not attractive enough. You're bad in bed. You were too loud. You are just a stupid nerd. He lied. You made it all up in your head. He must have laughed at you after you were gone. Who could ever want you? Why would you think he'd like you? When has anyone really liked you? Why would someone like Kurt care about someone like you? Ugly, ugly, ugly, not wanted, not enough, not sexy, ugly…_

Blaine felt like he couldn't breathe. His lungs wouldn't fill with air anymore. There was something heavy, toxic, making his chest ache, his eyes water, his lower lip tremble, forming a lump in his throat…

_Stupid. Hopeless. Needy. Not wanted. Not enough. Not sexy. Ugly._

_Man up. Of course he doesn't want you. Just look at you. One second of indifference and you're a mess. Pathetic. You deserve this. Man _up_._

_Not enough._

_Ugly._

Blaine stared intently at the screen of his computer, without really seeing anything. Everything was blurry through his threatening tears, nothing made any sense. But he kept staring at it, because looking at Kurt just wasn't possible. He just couldn't do it. He needed a few minutes to hide his anguish behind a mask.

_Stupid. Clingy. It was just a fuck._

Suddenly, a surprisingly soft hand cupped his cheek and Blaine was forced to look up, a little startled.

Kurt was touching him so carefully, as if he was afraid he'd break. His eyes were a whole universe of colors, fixed on Blaine's, and his lips were slightly curved up again, but gentler. He smelled of coffee and warmth.

"I'm really bad at this," Kurt confessed in a low, timid voice.

Blaine swallowed. "T-this?"

"This," Kurt repeated, as if that made it all clearer. "I don't know what's off limits, what I'm allowed to do, and what I'm supposed to say. But… please stop looking so miserable. I… I can't handle seeing you like this."

_It was just a fuck…_

Blaine couldn't help the fear clutching his heart like an iron hand, saying those words over and over, whispering them in his ear…

Kurt's face darkened and the ghost of his smile vanished, making Blaine realize he must have said the words out loud. Kurt pulled away sharply, as if he'd been burnt, leaving Blaine creaving the touch of his fingers against his skin.

"That's all it was?" Kurt asked, trying to sound nonchalant, already rebuilding his walls around him, recoiling from him, pushing him away.

"You tell me," Blaine muttered, standing up to get closer to Kurt. "Why would you want anything more than that with me? I-it's okay if you just needed someone to take the edge off. I mean, it's not like I'm…"

"Blaine," Kurt's eyes were hard, his face serious. "It was not just a fuck. Not for me. If that's all I wanted, I would've gotten it somewhere else. Not with you, and certainly not for a second time after I pretty much told you my whole fucking life story…"

Blaine's lips were parted in a little gasp, from relief or surprise, he couldn't tell. "Okay…"

"You're so infuriating sometimes," Kurt said exasperated. Then he sighed, his face going softer, as he gave up and rested their foreheads together. "I don't do stuff like this, usually, whatever this is. I really don't want to screw it up, I'm just… I'm finding it hard to give up all of the protective walls I've built for myself. They've been protecting me for too long, and I…"

"I get it," Blaine interrupted, taking his turn to cup Kurt's cheek this time. "I won't pressure you into doing anything you don't want to do. As long as you know you can be yourself with me and come to me to talk whenever you need to, that's more than enough. You can… you can set the pace. For whatever _this_ is."

Kurt let out a little incredulous laugh. "What the hell are we even doing?"

Blaine's lips shifted to form a slow smile. "I have no idea."

"Well," Kurt's eyes were boring into his. Blaine was sure he'd fall into them and he wouldn't ever be able to find his way back, and the thought didn't disturb him at all. "I have no idea either."

"Do you care?" Blaine asked, noticing he was sounding more and more breathless with every word.

"Not even a little bit," Kurt replied, before moving forward the remaining few inches until his mouth could capture Blaine's.

They kissed hungrily, clinging to each other's clothes and struggling to breathe. It was obvious both of them had been thinking about the other since they had last done it, and they had been waiting for their chance to kiss again.

Kurt pulled away first, with a quick glance towards the window, as if he was expecting half of Lima's population to be staring at them through the glass. He leaned in for a little peck and then took a step back, clearing his throat.

"I'd better go back to work," he said. Blaine was happy to hear his voice was a little hoarse with want. "I have a wall to knock down."

"Of course," Blaine answered, and _oh_, he didn't sound much better…

Kurt walked to the opposite side of the room to grab the tools he'd need, Blaine's eyes drawn to the way his hips swayed mesmerizingly and the perfect curve of his ass.

It was really noisy for a while, as Kurt worked (though not as violently as before they'd kissed for the first time. This time he was just doing his job – last time he'd been trying to pulverize his misery), and Blaine finished his coffee as he replied to a few emails and updated his lists. He couldn't focus properly, hyperaware of the man not even fifteen feet away from him. He could hear him, smell him, almost _feel_ him…

It wasn't until one of Kurt's breaks to gather his breath and have some water that Blaine spoke again. The question had been buzzing around his brain all morning, and he couldn't keep it to himself any longer.

"Kurt?" He said softly.

Kurt glanced at him over his bottle of water, as his throat worked to swallow the clear liquid, with his eyebrows raised in question. "Mm?"

"I'd like you ask you something," Blaine muttered, standing up and taking a few steps closer. "But you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

Kurt's eyes immediately narrowed warily, probably out of habit, and Blaine almost bailed. "What is it?"

"Rachel," Blaine blurted, before his courage abandoned him.

Kurt seemed surprised at the mention of her name. "What about Rachel?"

"What are you going to do?" Blaine looked down, and then up again, biting his lip. "You know, about the tickets she sent you. Are you going to go?"

Kurt stared at him for the longest moment, and Blaine couldn't help but fidget, wishing he had kept his mouth shut, but knowing maybe a tiny little push in the right direction wouldn't be that bad. Kurt's expression was unreadable, so Blaine started wondering if he would flip out at him for daring to talk about it again. Then Kurt simply turned to put his bottle back in his bag and sighed tiredly.

"There's nothing _to_ do about that, Blaine," he said. "Rachel sent those tickets to her best friend. The Kurt she was best friends with died a long time ago. I'm not the person she wants anymore, and I definitely have no intention of going back to New York. So…"

So there was nothing to talk about, no question to be answered, because there was no way Kurt would give in so easily. Blaine felt sad: if only Kurt would _believe_ in his dreams for just _one more second_…

Kurt went back to work, and Blaine wasn't brave enough to push him any further. Not yet, at least.

* * *

It was all about sneaking kisses and simple touches every time they could. As days went by, they became more and more desperate to feel the other's skin, the other's lips. Kurt was the one who would always stop things from going too far, afraid they would be seen.

"Kurt, there's no one out there…"

"Until there is. We can't risk it."

"No one can touch you here."

"I don't live in here. And you don't want to risk your business even before you have a chance to open it."

Blaine didn't know Lima as well as Kurt did, but he was starting to think that Kurt's fears and doubts were all inside his head. Yes, maybe people around here weren't very accepting, maybe they wouldn't want to see two guys making out in plain sight… but would anyone really go out of their way to hurt two adult men?

Blaine's stomach churned uncomfortably and he decided he'd rather not find out.

But Blaine still ached to see Kurt being completely care-free. He wanted him to relax and enjoy himself, and forget about the outside world. He just wasn't sure how to make it happen without pushing Kurt's boundaries. He'd made a promise to let Kurt call the shots, and he intended to keep it.

It was a Thursday night, and they were about to leave for the day. Kurt had already put his tools in the back of his truck, and Blaine was waiting for his computer to turn off so he could put it in his satchel. Suddenly, Kurt's fingers were brushing lightly against his hand, and he looked up at him, wide-eyed.

Kurt leaned in to murmur into his ear. "Would you like to stay at my place tonight?"

A shiver ran down Blaine's spine, and he found himself nodding even before he could actually process the words. "I'd love to."

They packed the rest of their stuff, and Blaine said he would follow Kurt in his car. Kurt gave him a quick, beautiful smile before he got in his truck, waiting for him while Blaine locked the bookshop and walked to his own vehicle.

Blaine tried keeping his mind diverted as he drove, following the lights of Kurt's truck ahead of him. He listed everything still left to do in the bookshop – removing the carpet, fixing imperfections in the wooden floors, painting, installing the shelves – but his thoughts kept circling back to Kurt, to the way he'd asked him to stay at his house, the way his fingertips had ignited a flame deep down inside him.

When they parked in front of Kurt's house, Blaine paused before getting out of the car, to take a deep breath. Even though he could guess what Kurt's intentions might be, he still didn't know for sure why he had invited him to stay over. What if he needed to talk about something? What if he was ready to share more about himself? Blaine couldn't let his attraction to him cloud his brain. He had to be ready for whatever Kurt needed him to be.

Kurt was standing at the unlocked front door, looking at Blaine's car with a raised eyebrow, so Blaine turned the engine off and grabbed his satchel before following.

"Everything alright?" Kurt asked, watching Blaine closely as he slid inside.

"Yes, yes, sorry, I was…"

But Blaine didn't get to finish his sentence, because suddenly Kurt was pressing him against the closed door, kissing him. His lips were hungry, demanding, insistent on Blaine's, and Blaine barely had time to react and try to kiss back before Kurt was changing the angle, deepening the kiss, trying to lick into his mouth.

Blaine moaned helplessly, both out of frustration and pleasure, and Kurt pulled away with a low groan. "I've been thinking about doing that all day…"

"No, no, come back…" Blaine whispered, moving one of his hands to the back of Kurt's neck to pull him back.

"Wait a minute," Kurt said, looking down at himself. His clothes were a mess after working all day, and he was covered in dust from knocking the wall down. "I'm so gross."

"No, you're perfect. Just kiss me some more…" Blaine whined, chasing his lips.

Kurt chuckled. "Patience is a virtue, Anderson," he said, smugly.

"You're such a tease," Blaine protested weakly.

With another laugh, Kurt gave him one last quick peck and stepped away from Blaine's arms. "I'm going to take a shower and then we can have dinner? I'm starving."

"Sure. Do you want me to cook something…?" Blaine offered, but Kurt shook his head.

"No, no. I've got it. You can just grab something to drink from the fridge and watch TV or whatever," Kurt couldn't resist another quick peck. "I'll be right back."

Blaine bit his lip as he watched him walk up the stairs. "I miss you already," he muttered, and then he immediately blushed as soon as he realized Kurt must have heard him, because he was smiling at him over his shoulder, half amused, half pleased.

Once he could hear Kurt moving around upstairs, Blaine put his satchel down, and went to the kitchen to grab a drink. Kurt's fridge was full of healthy food, lots of vegetables, several kinds of juice, and water. Blaine thought back to how fit Kurt's naked body, how he had the right amount of muscle in all the right places. It made sense that Kurt was careful with what he ate. Blaine poured some water into a glass and then went back to the living room.

He was going to sit on the couch and watch some TV until Kurt came back, but he was instantly drawn to the bookcase on the opposite wall instead. He put his water down on the coffee table, and then examined the books Kurt owned. He didn't have as many as Blaine did (probably no one else in Ohio owned as many books as he did), but they were lots of classics, and a few contemporary titles from authors Blaine was very interested in. He found Kurt's copy of _Catcher in the Rye_ and pulled it out, flipping through the pages carefully. There were a lot of highlighted quotes, and that made Blaine smile. Though he wasn't one to scribble on books (he considered that to be a sacrilege, but he could forgive Kurt for it), knowing Kurt had wanted to remember something in particular from a story that had obviously touched him, sent warmth through him.

The pictures displayed on the shelves caught his attention next. He recognized Kurt's father in most of them. There were a few that featured a little boy who could only be Kurt, with a beautiful woman who had the same color of hair, eyes and fair skin, and others with a teenage Kurt with a different woman and a very tall boy. He saw a few pictures that looked a lot more recent, probably taken in the last couple of years, and it broke Blaine's heart to realize that, while in the older pictures Kurt looked full of life, smiling brightly at the camera, in the newest ones his smile was forced, and the light drained from his eyes. It was the difference between a Kurt with all his hopes and dreams intact, and a Kurt who had seen them all shattered.

"I should've guessed you'd be looking at my books instead of watching TV," Blaine spun around to see Kurt coming down the stairs, his hair damp and unstyled, wearing loose pajama pants, a soft, blue t-shirt, and an even softer (and so unusual – gosh, Blaine couldn't believe he was allowed to _see_ him like this) smile.

He was _so_ beautiful.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist," Blaine shrugged, apologetically, as he put _The Catcher in the Rye_ back where he had found it.

"As long as you weren't judging…" Kurt muttered as he walked into the kitchen, his bare feet silent as moved.

"Not at all," Blaine said, smiling. "You have really good taste."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Well, of course I do. Was that ever in question?" He opened the fridge and scanned the contents for a moment. "So, I was thinking we could have some tuna, rice, a few vegetables… does any of that sound good to you? I have turkey too, if you don't like fish…"

"Tuna's fine," Blaine replied, leaning against the wall. "Are you sure you want to cook right now? You must be so tired after working all day. I can go get some take-out…"

"I like cooking," Kurt said as he gathered the ingredients he needed. "It relaxes me after a long day."

"Okay, then how can I help?" Blaine looked around, as if he was waiting for one of the vegetables to start bouncing on the counter, screaming _chop me, chop me_.

"I don't want you to do anything," Kurt laughed, filling a pot with water for the rice. "Just talk to me while I cook. Usually I just put on the TV in the background, but there's only so much arguing I can do with fictional characters that won't fight back."

Blaine knew it was supposed to be a joke, but it still sent a pang to his chest, because he was intimately familiar with how much it sucked to always be alone. He was used to it, but for some reason, he felt that someone like Kurt shouldn't have to know what it was like to not have anyone to love.

"I know exactly what you mean," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "It doesn't get any more pathetic than yelling at football games on the TV, when you're all alone."

"Ugh, you're one of those, too?" Kurt's nose scrunched adorably. "You'd get along so well with my dad and my stepbrother. I swear whenever there's a Buckeyes game on, it's like watching one of those wildlife documentaries happening right on our couch."

"I resent that. Just because Buckeyes fans are passionate, it doesn't mean we can't behave like human beings…" Blaine said teasingly.

"_And_ you like the Buckeyes," Kurt mumbled under his breath. "Of course you do."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Blaine asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"For some reason you're already pretty much at the top of my Dad's favorite people list," Kurt explained, as he put the tuna in a pan. "If he finds out about this, I wouldn't be surprised if he adopted you."

Blaine laughed. "We've only met _once_."

"That's enough for Burt Hummel to know if you're worth his time," Kurt said solemnly.

Blaine felt himself blushing a bit. "Well… I'm honored. He seems to be a fantastic man."

"He is," Kurt didn't even hesitate. "I like to think that having such an amazing father was my reward for all the other crap that happened in my life. And even if they're more numerous, I still win…"

Blaine's hazel eyes followed Kurt as he moved in the tiny kitchen, working. He felt his heart thumping against his ribcage. "I'm glad you have him, then. I hope he knows how lucky he is too…"

"Oh, I don't think _he's_ lucky. He deserved to have a kid who made things easier for him," Kurt wasn't looking at him as he talked, busy chopping carrots.

"I'm sure he wouldn't exchange you for the world…" Blaine whispered, but when he noticed how Kurt had stiffened, probably trying to hold back his emotions, he decided to look for a new topic. "How long has he been married to Carole?"

Kurt told him his family's story as he cooked, and Blaine was happy to lean against the counter and listen, while Kurt talked about his amazing dad, how sweet his stepmother was, and how he still hadn't managed to teach Finn that wearing a brown leather belt with black dress shoes was a fashion crime. He insisted on setting the table while Kurt told him about the one time he'd had to wear Finn's clothes to school for three days after he'd lost a bet and Blaine couldn't help but laugh at how Kurt cringed as he described the outfits.

"It wasn't funny, Anderson. I cannot rock puffy vests," Kurt huffed, as he placed the food on the small table.

Blaine took his seat. "If anyone can pull it off, I'm sure it's you."

"Oh, shush and come eat," Kurt rolled his eyes.

For a couple of minutes, the only sounds were the forks against the plates, and Blaine's hums of appreciation as he ate. After a few mouthfuls, Blaine took a sip of water and looked at Kurt, pensively. He adjusted his glasses on his nose.

"I… Kurt?" Kurt, who was chewing, raised a questioning eyebrow at him. "Is this… is this a date?"

Kurt put his fork down and dabbed at his lips with a napkin, carefully. "I don't know, Blaine. Do you want it to be?"

Blaine couldn't make himself say it, even though it was just a tiny, three-letter word, so he simply nodded, hazel eyes fixed on Kurt hopefully.

It was obvious Kurt was trying to look serioys, but his lips were curling up into a smile anyway. "Then maybe it is."

_Maybe_ had never sounded so good to Blaine before.

* * *

**What did you think of this chapter? Hit review and let me know!**  
**Have a wonderful week! I'm going to try to update again this weekend, so I'll see you then, hopefully.**  
**Love you all,**  
**L.-**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hey guys! I hope you're all having a wonderful weekend.**

**Thank you so much for all the reviews. They really make my day and I'm so happy you're enjoying this story. We have 10 more chapters to go, so I hope you'll stay around to find out how this ends :)**

**Thanks to my beta, Wutif, who is the awesomest beta in the whole world. And to Christine, who is also awesome beyond words.**

**I own nothing!**

* * *

Kurt buried his face on the pillow and moaned loudly.

"Oh god, you're so good at this."

Blaine smiled complacently at him from where he was sitting on the back of his thighs. "Told you I could make you feel good."

"Harder," Kurt demanded.

"Someone's bossy," Blaine leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the back of his neck.

"I have every right," Kurt answered, as he closed his eyes, reveling in the sensations. "Every fucking muscle in my body is sore and it's entirely your fault."

"_My _fault?" Blaine feigned shock, as he massaged Kurt's back with a little bit more pressure.

"Whose book store is it? Who put all those renovation ideas on his list, huh?"

"Mm, well, that's true," Blaine hummed. "But I'm trying to make it up to you, right?"

"I'll consider your debt forgotten if you work on the knot that's killing me…"

"Which one?" Blaine asked, as his fingers probed gently.

"Lower, lower… oh yeah, right there," Kurt arched against Blaine's hands when they found the right spot at the small of his back.

Blaine rolled his eyes. "Just stay still. I can't get it if you keep moving."

They had gone straight to Kurt's place at the end of the day, and after a shower, Blaine had made Kurt lie down on his bed, because of his constant grumbling about his sore back, after bashing that wall down. Now Kurt's body was loose and smooth under the palms of his hands, completely relaxed after his shower, and only flinching when Blaine touched a particularly sore spot. It felt amazing having him like this, completely at his mercy, pliant and gorgeous under his hands.

The past few days had been strange, to put it lightly. Neither of them was used to having someone to go home with at the end of the day, someone to share dinner with, someone to discuss anything and everything as they relaxed after work.

Mostly, they went to Kurt's place, since it was closest, grabbing something to eat and going to bed early, because spending hours and hours exploring each other's bodies hadn't gotten old yet. Blaine was pretty sure he hadn't yet memorized every inch of Kurt's beautiful pale skin, and he was determined to accomplish that.

Kurt groaned as the knot in the small of his back finally loosened up, and he tried to arch into Blaine's touch. He chuckled and pushed him back down, dropping a quick kiss to the back of his neck.

"Better?" He whispered.

Kurt nodded without lifting his head from where it was buried in the pillow. "So much better. Thank you."

"You should take the day off tomorrow," Blaine said, without even thinking about it. "You've been working hard for weeks…"

Kurt frowned, as he turned to look at him. "What? We both know you're desperate to open the damn place already! Why would you tell me to take a day off?"

"Because you deserve it? Because I don't want you to get hurt, pushing yourself too hard? I know you're tired, Kurt," Blaine insisted.

"It's okay. I've had to work under worse conditions and been a lot more exhausted that I am right now," Kurt shrugged and patted the spot next to him on the mattress, gesturing for Blaine to move closer, then turned on his side, facing him. "You don't need to get all soft with me just because we're sleeping together…"

Blaine traced the sharp line of his collarbone with the tip of his finger. "I'm not getting _soft_. I'm being decent. And I'd like to think I'm always a decent person."

"So you have no ulterior motives?" Kurt asked with a smirk, propping himself up on his elbow. "You're not going to take advantage of me having a day off to come join me in my big, lonely, cold bed…"

Blaine bit his lip and averted his eyes. "Well, are you inviting me or…?"

Kurt laughed. "I knew it."

Blaine let him laugh, mostly because it was so refreshing to see him like that. The sound of Kurt's laugh tugged at his heartstrings every single time. "I'm just kidding," he muttered after a moment. "I was planning to buy paint to start on the walls next week, so I'm not going to be at the book store much… well, at all. And one day off won't throw us completely off schedule, so please don't worry about it. Stay home, visit your dad, do whatever you want to do…"

Kurt averted his eyes and bit his lip. "I… I'd rather not, really. I need to do my job, Blaine."

He seemed a little uncomfortable so Blaine decided not to push it. He knew Kurt still had trouble accepting that things were different now, that he was allowed to be tired or to need time for himself, that he wouldn't be judged for any reason. Blaine simply smiled lightly and gave him a quick peck on the lips before standing up to look for his shirt to put it back on. "Whatever you decide is fine with me. I'd ask you to help me choose the paint colors, but it'll probably be boring…"

"Wait," Kurt said, frowning. "You mean you _still_ don't know which colors you're going to be using?"

"Well, I've narrowed it down to a few options, but I'm not _entirely_ sure…" Blaine admitted as he stopped by the doorway. "Why?"

"What are your options?" Kurt glanced at him curiously.

"I was thinking about a light yellow and some blue for the…"

"No," Kurt interrupted immediately. "No, what are you doing? You can't base your color palette on… Blaine, no."

Blaine had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing at how concerned Kurt sounded. "No?"

"No. You need transition between each color, you can't just go from yellow to blue, it's not that easy," Kurt stood up as well. "What's your theme?"

"Theme?" Blaine was now truly confused.

"Yes, you need a theme." Kurt blinked as he waited for Blaine's answer, but since Blaine just stared at him blankly, he sighed dramatically. "Screw my day off. I'm going with you or this bookshop will end up looking like something out of an acid-induced hallucination…"

"Hey!" Blaine said, pouting, mildly offended. "My taste isn't that bad…"

"We'll see, dear," Kurt muttered with a condescending grin as he patted Blaine's cheek, before walking out of the room to go downstairs and start dinner. "We'll see."

* * *

They made a quick stop at the Lima Bean the next morning before heading to Home Depot. It was clear Kurt had definite opinions when it came to interior design, and Blaine could only absorb them after he'd consumed a considerable amount of caffeine first. Kurt had already named so many colors that Blaine didn't even know existed, and he was starting to feel dizzy. Maybe he should've chosen to paint the entire place white. You can never go wrong with white, right?

Any color-related thought escaped Blaine's mind as soon as they parked the car and walked into the store. Kurt went silent immediately, tensing his jaw and stiffening his posture, sure to keep distance between them as they looked for the paint aisle.

"Kurt?" Blaine ventured to say, leaning closer to him. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. Let's just get this done," Kurt answered, in that voice of his that didn't really sound like his, at least not anymore, now that Blaine knew how unique it really was. He was speaking in the lower tone he'd always used those first weeks working for him, and it made Blaine instantly sad to know Kurt couldn't even go into a store without feeling threatened by acting naturally.

For a moment, Blaine considered leaving the store. He considered driving somehwere else, where Kurt wouldn't be constantly afraid of showing who he was. He considered holding onto him until his fears vanished, until Blaine could see the real Kurt, the one he rarely glimpsed vulnerable and panting under his sheets.

Knowing that wasn't possible, Blaine decided to settle for distracting Kurt so that he would forget, at least for an instant, how threatened he felt. It wasn't as hard as he initially thought it would be, because as soon as Blaine found the color samples, Kurt became engrossed in them.

"This color would look amazing with the wooden floors once they're completely restored… oh! And these two would look lovely in that children's area you mentioned you wanted. They're so playful and fun…" Kurt rambled, as he pointed to different samples, so quickly that Blaine barely had time to see which colors he was talking about. "What about this one? What do you think?"

Blaine had actually stopped trying to follow whatever Kurt was excited about, and instead admired the enthusiasm light up his face, in his beautiful, breathtaking eyes. He was fascinated. But then Kurt turned to him, and caught Blaine gaping like a fish out of water. "Oh. Well. Those are… yeah. I like… yeah."

"Are you even listening to anything I said?" Kurt rolled his eyes, feigning annoyance, but failing miserably since a smile was trying to tug at his lips. "This is _your_ book store, you know. You should be the one involved here…"

"Yes! I'm sorry, it's just that you were so…" Blaine trailed off when he realized Kurt's eyes had wandered to something behind him. His smile faded and he went even paler than usual. "Kurt?"

"Kurt?" Someone echoed. Blaine turned to see a couple walking down the aisle with a shopping cart. The man had short curly blonde hair and the woman had big green eyes and beautiful ginger hair. She was also very, very pregnant. It was the man who had spoken, and his face parted in a huge grin when he realized it really was Kurt standing there. "Kurt! I can't believe it's you! I haven't seen you in years!"

Kurt cleared his throat. "Hi, Mr. Schuester… Miss Pillsbury…"

"Oh, it's Mrs. Schuester now," the woman replied, smiling just as widely as her husband. "What a nice surprise seeing you here! We were picking up stuff for the baby's room! He's due soon and there's still so much to do!"

"Yeah. Congratulations," Kurt said awkwardly. Blaine put a hand on the small of his back in support, before he realized it might not be welcome. It evidently wasn't, because Kurt tensed as soon as he touched him.

"Is this your boyfriend?" Mr. Schuester asked him, still smiling.

Blaine pulled his hand away as fast as he could. "No, no." He said, wanting to spare Kurt any more discomfort. "We're…"

"I'm working for him," Kurt finished. "I work in construction now."

Mr. Schuester seemed taken aback by Kurt's words. "Construction? Last I heard, you were going to New York with Rachel Berry to…"

"It didn't work out," Kurt cut him off a little too sharply, effectively silencing the man. "But you'll be glad to know she's doing really well. Now, if you'll excuse me…" He turned back to the samples. "What about this one, Mr. Anderson?" He spoke through gritted teeth.

Blaine ignored the fact that it was the ugliest shade of brown he had ever seen in his life. He simply nodded and waited until he heard the couple walking away.

* * *

"Are you okay?"

Kurt's fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Blaine had waited until they were back in the car to ask, not wanting to put Kurt even more on edge, but he needed to be sure Kurt truly was okay.

"Yes," Kurt shrugged and turned the engine on. "I mean, I almost had a heart attack when you tried to combine the forest green with that horrible orange, but…"

"Kurt," Blaine interrupted gently. He placed his hand on his knee and squeezed lightly. "You know what I mean."

Kurt sighed impatiently as he pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm fine. I promise. I'm not some fucking delicate doll that's going to break just because we ran into a teacher from high school."

Blaine squeezed once again before taking his hand off his leg. "You seemed upset. I just wanted to make sure."

"I'm fine," he repeated, obviously frustrated. "And I'll be even better when we get to my place and you let me fuck you into my mattress."

Blaine's breath hitched, even though he knew Kurt was saying that to deflect attention, even though he knew Kurt was using sex – _him_ – as a distraction. "I-I thought you didn't want a day off? I thought you wanted to go straight to the book store to finish with the carpet?"

"Screw your pathetic little bookshop," Kurt snapped, as he took a turn a little too abruptly. "It would be a complete fucking waste of my time if you weren't paying me. No one is gonna give a shit about it anyway."

Blaine knew Kurt was only saying those things because he was angry, because he was hurt… but his words still stung. He faced the window for the rest of the ride, not saying anything. When they arrived at Kurt's house, he also followed him inside without saying anything.

It seemed easier that way.

* * *

Blaine panted harshly after his orgasm, his heart beating wildly, with Kurt still buried deep inside of him. He didn't want to open his tightly closed eyes, and face the aftermath, the reasons why they had torn each other's clothes off and trashed the bed.

Kurt broke the silence, quietly, lips brushing the column of his neck. "I'm sorry, Blaine."

He pulled out gently to get rid of the condom, as Blaine shifted to his side to look at Kurt.

"Kurt…"

"No," Kurt cut him off. "I was such a jerk today. I really, really was. I said things I didn't mean to and I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to deal with all my crap. It wasn't your fault that we ran into someone who said all the wrong things." He started stroking Blaine's hair carefully, undoing everything Blaine had done with the gel that morning, and freeing the curls completely. "If there's anyone who doesn't deserve to be treated that way, it's you. You're so sweet and patient, and I… I didn't mean to take my anger and frustration out on you. It was unfair …"

Blaine stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. He truly wanted to help Kurt, even if he didn't quite understand _why_ yet, but he couldn't deny that Kurt was incredibly adroit at hurting his feelings.

"I'm just…" Kurt swallowed, awkwardly, blue eyes fixed on Blaine's bare shoulder, unable to look him in the eyes. "I suck at this, okay? I suck at being nice to people because I'm used to everyone being assholes to me. I suck at… at being… _intimate_ with someone." A slight blush crept up his cheeks. "This is the closest thing to a real relationship I've ever had, and now you understand why," he added, the words leaving him in a rush, as if it was particularly hard to admit. "Apparently, I suck at life in general, so…"

Blaine moved forward then, capturing Kurt's lips in his before he could go on, kissing him firmly but sweetly, caressing his bottom lip – so pink and swollen from all the kissing they had already done – with the tip of his tongue, just enough to leave Kurt wanting more.

When they parted, Kurt's eyes were a little darker, wide, and fixed on Blaine's mouth, as if all he really wanted to do was to lean in and kiss him again. "So… does that mean I'm forgiven?"

"Maybe," Blaine replied, but there was an edge of teasing in his voice. He nudged Kurt's foot with his under the sheets. "I'm sort of curious about your past relationships, now…"

"Told you," Kurt said, rolling his eyes. "They weren't exactly relationships."

"I'm still curious," Blaine settled against the pillows comfortably, ignoring his urgent need for a shower.

Kurt sighed, but turned to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Fine. But if you judge me, I'll kick you out of my house. Naked, for all of Lima to see."

"Sure you will," Blaine poked him on the side and Kurt squirmed away from him, grabbing his hand to keep him from poking him again. "And you should know I would never judge you."

Kurt made a noncommittal sound.

"Come on," Blaine insisted. "Tell me about your first kiss."

Playing with Blaine's fingers, Kurt was, once again avoiding looking at him. "Junior year of high school. The guy who bullied me every single day for being gay, was actually a closeted jock. He forced a kiss on me when we were alone in the boys locker room."

Kurt spoke in a calm voice, as if it wasn't that big a deal, but the way his restless hands kept playing with Blaine's fingers as if he needed something to focus on, told Blaine a whole different story.

"Kurt…" Blaine said horrified. "That's…"

"Yeah, it really sucked," Kurt interrupted. "Luckily, he transferred to another school in my senior year, so…" When it seemed like Blaine was about to say something else, Kurt continued to avoid being pitied by anyone. "That was the high point in my love life while I was still in high school, so that should tell you something…"

"Kurt, stop," Blaine scooted closer. "I'm sorry. That shouldn't have been…"

"It's okay. It happened over a decade ago. I'm over it," Kurt said dismissively. "Worse things happen every day."

"But it was your first kiss…" Blaine muttered sadly. When Kurt didn't reply, he decided to let it go. "Okay. Well… did it get better after high school?"

"You could say that," Kurt shrugged. "At least I wasn't being hate-kissed. I had sort of a boyfriend when I lived in New York, but it didn't last long. I was having trouble making a living there and considering coming back here, so I wasn't really prepared to put a lot of effort into a relationship when my life was kind of falling apart around me. He broke up with me a couple weeks before I came back to live with my parents."

Blaine was starting to regret asking Kurt about his past relationships. The more he spoke, the more bitter he sounded. Blaine hated that most of Kurt's memories were unpleasant, that he had so much trouble trying to find a single positive thing to say about his life.

"Then nothing interesting happened for a couple of years," Kurt continued. He had stopped playing with Blaine's hand and was simply holding it. "I gave up on finding someone compatible in Lima after a while, and ended up going to Scandals every now and then…"

"Scandals?" Blaine asked, not understanding.

"It's a gay bar, just outside of town," Kurt explained impassively, sounding almost bored as he talked about it. "It's the kind of place where kids sneak in with fake IDs and where old guys hide from their wives and kids to be themselves for a few hours every night. It's not very glamorous or exciting, but I guess that's the best you can get in Ohio…"

"So…" Blaine was confused. "You met someone there?"

"I met lots of _someones_ there," Kurt clarified darkly. "_Someones_ I wouldn't have looked at twice when I was living in New York."

"So you ended up dating guys who you wouldn't have if…" Blaine started saying, but Kurt cut off.

"No, Blaine," his tone was flat. "I didn't _date_ them. Going home with them and letting them fuck me isn't what I call dating. Humping a forty year old man with a wedding band on his finger in a dark alley behind a mediocre bar isn't dating."

Blaine frowned, propped himself up on his elbows and hovered over Kurt, looking down at him. "Kurt…"

"So, is this when you start judging me?" Kurt mumbled harshly. "Is this when you realize how disgusting and worthless I am? Is this when you start regretting you ever shared my bed in the first place?"

"No, Kurt, I…" Blaine said breathlessly. He leaned in to kiss him, fiercely. "Nothing about you is disgusting and worthless. Nothing that ever happened in your past could make me stop being with you now, or regret I was with you in the first place," he whispered against Kurt's lips. "Kurt. You're beautiful, everything about you is…"

"We both know that's not true…" Kurt muttered weakly.

"It is," Blaine insisted, looking into his eyes to make his words sink in. "You're beautiful, smart, amazing… and it's not your fault that life has turned its back on you a few times. The things that happened to you… none of them define you."

"I could've made different choices…" Kurt said softly.

"But this is where you are right now. There's no use in wondering what could've happened if you had taken Exit A instead of Exit B," Blaine moved until he was lying on top of him, and cupped his face in his hands. "Believe me, I question myself every day. I wonder what might have changed if I hadn't been such a coward when I was younger – and I still am, sometimes. But in the end, I'm here. And maybe some of my choices weren't the best ones, but I'm here, with you, in this bed, in your arms, right now. And if I could go back in time knowing this is where I'd end up, I wouldn't change a damn thing, because even if this ends as soon as you're done working for me, even if you kick me out of your life as soon as the day is over, it's worth it. _You_ are worth it."

A very slow smile made its way onto Kurt's lips. It wasn't a happy smile, more like a resigned one, but it was good enough, for now. "Is that speech from some book? Because it was really good."

"No, that's an original Blaine Anderson," Blaine teased, tilting his head into Kurt's touch when he started stroking his dark curls again. "But maybe I should write it down for you, just for future reference."

Kurt placed a kiss on the corner of Blaine's mouth. "You're such an amazing guy, Blaine. I don't know why you're wasting your time with me, but I'm glad you are."

"Because unfortunately John Grisham is straight and too old for me, so…" Blaine teased playfully, earning a quick shove on the shoulder from Kurt.

"Oh, is _that_ how it is?" Kurt narrowed his eyes, but the dark cloud in them had vanished. "You're just here because you can't get it on with some dumb writer?"

"_Dumb writer_? He's a bestselling author, Kurt!" Blaine exclaimed, scandalized. "Do you even know how many books… _umph_!"

Kurt licked his way into his mouth, silencing him very effectively.

* * *

"Good morning!"

Blaine walked into the bookshop on Monday morning, carrying a few bags. Kurt was already there, rolling up the carpet to dispose of it later, but when he looked up at the other man, his eyebrows shot up all the way to his hairline.

"Uhm, Blaine?"

"Yeah?" Blaine said as he put his things down.

"Is that a doll?"

It was, indeed a doll, tall enough to reach Blaine's waist, with long, blonde hair and big blue eyes. It was also completely naked, except for a pair of plastic black shoes.

"Yes! Isn't she pretty?" Blaine smiled at him as he propped the doll up against a wall to admire her.

"Uhm," Kurt blinked, wondering if this was really happening. "I think we need to talk about whatever kinky shit is going on in your head right now, because I'm sure as hell not being part of it…"

"What?" Blaine turned to face him, eyes wide, suddenly getting Kurt's point. "No! Kurt, come on! Oh my god!"

"Just please explain what you're doing with that," Kurt pointed at the doll, still grimacing.

"You're such a pervert," Blaine shook his head. "I found her yesterday when I was shopping with my mom and I thought she would be perfect for the display I want to put in the window. I've been thinking of doing a theme every month, and this doll looks a lot like Alice, you know, from _Alice in Wonderland_. It's such a colorful story, so I thought it would be something fun to start with."

"Alice isn't usually naked," Kurt muttered, with an eyebrow still arched.

"What is wrong with you? Are you trying to ruin one of my favorite childhood memories?" Blaine pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.

Kurt raised his hands in front of himself, defensively. "Sorry. This looks sort of weird from my point of view, you know. So why is she naked?"

"Because I couldn't find the right dress for her. I can't put her in just any dress. It needs to be _Alice's_ dress, the blue and white one. I want it to be perfect," Blaine said sadly. "It's nowhere to be found, though. I went everywhere I could think of. I found a girls Halloween costume, but it's too big for the doll…"

Kurt took the doll and examined her carefully. "What kind of dress came with the doll?"

"A yellow one with daisies all over it," Blaine said. "It was hideous."

"Uhm," Kurt hummed thoughtfully. He put the doll back down. "Well, you still have some time before you need to really worry about this. I'm going to start sanding the floor now. Then with a few layers of varnish, it'll look just as good as new. We can paint the walls once that's done and then the only thing left in your list is to assemble all the furniture, so…"

"I can't believe it's almost done," Blaine smiled as he looked around. His dream was so close to coming true…

"It'll look great," Kurt brushed the small of his back with the tips of his fingers as he moved past him to go back to work. "You'll see…"

"All thanks to you," Blaine whispered warmly.

Kurt simply rolled his eyes and asked Blaine to help him carry the carpet out of the way.

The next few hours were spent sanding imperfections out of the wooden floor, making sure there were no traces of the glue used to put the carpet on so many years ago. After it was meticulously clean, Kurt applied the first coat of varnish, so when it was done, there wasn't much they could do there for the rest of the day.

"What do you say if we go to your place and you let me cook you something for once?" Blaine proposed.

Kurt was throwing his things in the back of his truck. "Oh. No, sorry. I can't today, but I'd love a raincheck for that."

"Sure," Blaine frowned. They didn't go home together every day, but until now, every time either of them had offered to, no one had said no. For a moment, Blaine wondered if he'd done something wrong.

Kurt gave him a little smile before climbing into the driver's seat. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

"Yeah," Blaine muttered, and then watched him go, until Kurt's truck turned the corner.

When Blaine got home, he realized his apartment had never felt as empty as it felt that night.

* * *

Saying Blaine was anxious to get to the book store the next morning was putting things lightly. He arrived there ten minutes early, and then stared at the door, waiting for Kurt for a long time, but there was no sign of him anywhere.

There was a knot in Blaine's stomach. Why wasn't he there? Kurt was very rarely late. Something must have happened… first he couldn't spend the evening with Blaine and now _this_?

Maybe he was tired of Blaine already, and he didn't know how to let him down gently…

Needing to do something, Blaine began preparing the floor for another layer of varnish. Maybe he should do it himself, in case Kurt never showed up. He _would_ probably show up eventually. Even if he didn't want anything to do with Blaine anymore, he had a job to finish. Kurt wouldn't just quit without finishing what he'd been hired to do…

"Hey!"

Blaine's head snapped up so quickly he could hear his neck crack. He winced.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," Kurt said apologetically. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Blaine answered as he rubbed his neck. He couldn't help the rush of relief flooding him.

"I know I'm late, so don't go all upset boss on me, okay? I went to bed really late last night and I couldn't get my ass out of bed this morning…" Kurt explained as he put his toolbox on the floor.

The knot in Blaine's stomach tightened for a moment. "Oh. Were you… were you out late last night?" He asked, looking down at his own hands, to prepare for whatever Kurt would say.

_You're not together. He's not your boyfriend. If he wants to go out, he can. He can go and hook up with another guy. He can do whatever he wants and he doesn't have to explain to you. He doesn't have to…_

"No, I stayed home. But I was really busy making _this_," Kurt replied, putting a paper bag in Blaine's arms.

Blaine frowned in confusion. "What is this?"

Kurt was biting his lip, and he seemed a little anxious. "Just open it."

Blaine obliged, pulling out whatever was in the bag. It was soft and it felt like fabric…

His heart stopped beating for a moment as he unfolded the blue and white dress, the one he had been looking for everywhere, the one he was afraid he'd never find.

He looked up at Kurt, not understanding.

"You said you wanted it to be perfect, so I assumed your only option was to get it custom made," Kurt shrugged, as if it wasn't a big deal. "I learnt how to sew when I was a kid, so…"

"You _made_ this," Blaine muttered, incredulous.

"Yeah," Kurt blushed a pretty shade of pink. "After I left here yesterday, I bought the fabric and then I went to my parents' house and dug out my sewing machine in the basement. I think it should fit alright, but I can fix it if it's not…"

Blaine had been staring at him wide-eyed as Kurt talked, but he couldn't help himself any more. He interrupted him with a kiss, sliding a hand to the back of his neck and pulling him in, ignoring Kurt's sounds of protest.

"Kurt, you…" He breathed shakily after he pulled away. "You…"

"It's just a dress, Anderson," Kurt rolled his eyes, but it was obvious he was trying to play it cool – and failing horribly at it.

"It's not, it's…" Blaine looked down at the dress he was still holding. "Kurt, this is perfect. You have such talent…"

"It's too easy to impress you," Kurt snorted as he turned to start working.

"No," Blaine said, shaking his head. "Kurt, I mean it. This is amazing." He swallowed, knowing Kurt would get upset by his next words. "Kurt, you should really do this for a living. I'm sure you could have a career in fashion if only you'd…"

"Blaine," Kurt's voice was sharp, firm. "Don't. You know how things are. I've already tried it, and it didn't work out. I'm not going to waste any more time with childish dreams. And, besides, it's just a stupid dress for a doll. It's not haute couture."

Blaine had to bite his tongue to stop himself from arguing, but he decided to let it go. He didn't want to make Kurt grieve the life he could've had if things worked out differently. He simply nodded. "Thank you, Kurt. I really… I don't know what to say. It's just what I wanted."

Kurt's face softened. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it," Blaine whispered. Kurt smiled at him in response.

Blaine looked down at the dress in his hands once again. No one had ever done something like this for him. Maybe it was something trivial in Kurt's eyes, but it wasn't to Blaine. Blaine knew most people didn't get him … and the fact that Kurt had taken the time to do this, to give Blaine this… it meant the world.

Blaine's hazel eyes filled with tears and he wiped them away hastily, and that's when it hit him. That's how he knew that he was completely, irrevocably, head over heels in love with Kurt Hummel.

* * *

**Isn't Kurt sweet, after all? Review and let me know what you think of this chapter!**

**Thank you so much for reading, guys! Have a wonderful week, and I'll see you next weekend, hopefully!**  
**L.-**


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